Harry Potter and the Daughter of Light
by Magical Maeve
Summary: An Irish witch languishes in her home, trapped by circumstances and her father. What will it take to get her to leave this prison of convenience? The chance to return to Hogwarts? The opportunity to fight Voldemort? Or maybe it will be Severus Snape.
1. Flight

Chapter One

Flight

The horse and rider moved slowly across the landscape. They were clearly in no hurry to get anywhere, giving the impression of having all the time in the world. Viewed from a distance it would be impossible to gauge the sadness that emanated from the young woman, or to decipher the reason behind it. To understand her quiet despair would require knowledge of the O'Malley family history and an understanding of recent events. As very few outsiders were ever allowed within the grounds of the Abbeylara estate, she was seemingly alone in her sorrow.

The day itself was a reflection of the grey shadow that seemed to envelop her. Dull, heavy clouds spread across the expanse of sky, filling every last inch and giving the land beneath a claustrophobic feel. Huddled beneath this sky, the green of the grounds seemed muted and flat; even the flowers in the rose garden offered no respite as their colourful heads drooped dismally. The huge house loomed above everything else with its flat grey frontage and blank windows that gave away nothing of its occupants. A few strands of dying ivy clung to the portico, having long since given up any ambitions they may have had of making it all the way up the walls. Although the house gave the impression of decay it was actually in fairly good condition, maintained by men from the nearby town who came in to take care of any structural work. The décor inside was looked after by the lonely woman and was surprisingly beautiful, full of life and colour. Perhaps the colour of her own life had drained from her and bled into her surroundings, leaving her but a pale imitation of the wallpaper.

A light rain was starting to fall and the woman halted the horse beneath a tree to shelter from the fine drops of water. She stroked the animal's warm neck, causing it to lift its head and quietly start chewing at its bit. She watched the house closely; she had no desire to go back just yet because she was avoiding the presence of the first houseguest she could remember the family entertaining since her return several years ago.

Malachy Meany had turned up unexpectedly two nights ago, although she had only met him the previous evening. It had been clear her father had tried to prevent their paths crossing by his constant dogging of her footsteps, something that in itself was highly unusual. But in reality their meeting was unavoidable. She hadn't been prepared for the shock on his face when he finally encountered her on the main stairs.

She had heard of the Meanys, of course; they were cousins of her father and lived in Sligo and Dublin, their large, impressive houses filled with expensive furnishings. There had also been an inheritance, which she knew her father felt should have been his. When the will was read, it had gone to his cousin. Malachy Meany had been a tall, gaunt figure with piercing blue eyes and severe black hair. She had only met him once before as a child. Even then she had felt his brooding presence as a malign influence at the family gathering to celebrate a distant cousin's wedding. It was rare for them to attend any of these events, but for some reason her father had made an issue about this particular occasion, and they had eventually turned out for it.

Malachy had aged somewhat and his eyes had taken on an opaque quality, becoming two clouded moonstones rather than the clear sapphires of her memory. The hair that had once been black was now heavily streaked with grey and longer than she recalled, falling around his ears and neck in untidy clumps. He was still gaunt though, and the tight stretch of his skin made his face seem even more sinister than she remembered. The expression of shock on his face when he saw her was striking; he looked as if he had seen a phantom, which in effect he had. His thin voice had just stopped short of shrieking her name and he controlled himself at the last moment; her name eventually coming out as a sharp rasp.

"Maeve!"

"Malachy." She had spoken his name quietly, backing away from him.

"But… " He stumbled over his words, rubbing his left forearm as if in pain." I thought you were dead."

"Did you?" she asked quietly. "Well, as you can see, you were mistaken."

She was about to continue down the stairs but his voice detained her.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, a pale gleam in his eye that made her shudder involuntarily.

"Always." She could hardly bear to look him in the eyes. "I've always been here."

"You were killed," he repeated, running an agitated hand through his hair and making it even untidier. "The Dark Lord killed you."

"I don't wish to speak about that." She was scowling at him now, his interrogation beginning to annoy her. "Are you visiting us for long?"

"Yes…" he said, and then abruptly changed his mind. "No, no… highly unlikely now I should say… I have some business to attend to."

"Oh, well in that case I shall say goodbye now."

She moved quickly past him, continuing down the stairs. He stood where they had been and watched her progress, smiling with a slow curl of his lips, which made his face wrinkle alarmingly. This was bad news but it could also be good news depending on how one looked at it and Malachy Meany was always an optimist.

As she continued to watch the house from her vantage point on the hill, the front door suddenly opened and she could see her father and her cousin in heated debate about something. They stood arguing on the steps for several minutes before Liam, the butler, drove a gleaming silver car around the side of the house and parked it in front of them. Malachy walked briskly to the vehicle and tossed the small black holdall in the boot before throwing one final gesture of his arms at her father who responded by turning his back, slamming the door and leaving Liam and Malachy alone in the stillness. The butler gave a small nod towards the guest who then climbed quickly into the car. With a whirl of dust and the crunching of gravel he sped off down the drive and away from the house.

She wondered what they had been arguing about and, although not surprised that he was leaving, she was surprised he was leaving on bad terms with her father. She squeezed her legs against the side of the horse and cantered back towards the house, hoping to waylay Liam and find out what exactly had happened. Liam, however, had other ideas and was being very tight-lipped about the argument that had preceded Malachy Meany's departure. Maeve was extremely disappointed by this; Liam had been her friend and confidante for the past twenty years so she was surprised by his refusal to tell her anything.

Liam watched her leave the kitchen with a worried frown on his face. Her father might not be overly concerned by the sudden appearance, and disappearance, of the mysterious Malachy Meany, but Liam was. He had never trusted the Meany family, wrapped up as they were in dark things, and Malachy was the worst of them. The rumours had always circulated about him and the Dark Arts; there had even been suggestions he had been working for the Dark Lord, which Liam could quite well believe. If those rumours were true, however, it meant Maeve was now in serious danger and he couldn't understand her father's lack of reaction to this possibility. He knew Niall had a fairly ambivalent attitude to his daughter, indeed for most of the time he pretended she didn't exist, but he couldn't imagine her own father deliberately putting her in danger.

Maeve was reluctant to tackle her father over Malachy's sudden departure. As they sat eating dinner he barely said a word to her, but there was nothing new about this. Since her return here seventeen years ago this had been the pattern of their lives, cool detachment and disinterest. Of course at the beginning she had tried. Despite her weakness and despair after her brush with death she had given a lot of herself to pleasing her father, but it soon became clear that no matter what she did nothing would affect him. She had spent the last seventeen years in lonely isolation with only Liam and the large library for company, and slowly her life had slipped almost beyond her grasp. Maeve eventually gave up hope, hope of a life beyond the walls and hedges of the estate, hope of love, hope of making her past and her present make sense. She began to almost wish she had died all those years ago and that the compassion, which had saved her, had never been allowed to flourish.

She glanced at her father's discarded newspaper and read the headlines quickly. They told of the return of Lord Voldemort and the imprisonment of several Death Eaters after a battle at the British Ministry of Magic. It was meaningless to her though; she knew the names but in a disconnected way, as if they were part of something long ago and long forgotten. Her isolation was so total that reading the newspaper was like reading fiction for her; it held no significance in her life.

There was a light tap at the door and Liam entered looking vaguely apologetic.

"Sir, there are two gentlemen to see you."

Maeve looked up at him with interest; this was unheard of and must be directly connected to Malachy. Her father's flustered response told her she was probably right.

"Send them away," he said gruffly, setting his glass down in a rough manner and spilling wine on the table. "It's too late for visitors."

Liam hovered in the doorway.

"WELL!" her father thundered. "Send them AWAY, Liam."

"I can't, sir." Liam glanced quickly at Maeve who raised an eyebrow at him. His gaze returned to her father. "They must see you, sir, immediately."

"Who are they?" he snapped, standing quickly and flinging his chair back.

"It's rather delicate, sir." Liam nodded in Maeve's direction.

Niall looked at his daughter in confusion, as if he had forgotten she was there.

"It doesn't matter what you say in front of her." There was contempt in his voice that still had the power to hurt her. "She is hardly in the position to repeat it, is she?"

"But she may well be, Mr.O'Malley."

A new voice floated into the room followed by its owner, who Maeve immediately recognised. She dropped her cutlery in shock. Nothing had seriously interrupted her life for seventeen years and now twice in the space of a few days something unusual had happened. She couldn't quite believe it.

"What are you doing here?" Niall said peevishly, his eyes wide in astonishment. "Every time I see you you cause me and my family trouble." Then his eyes widened even more as a second figure came into view, and this time it was almost too much for Maeve.

"We are here, Mr O'Malley, because we happen to believe that your daughter is currently in grave danger and must be moved from this place for her own safety." The man turned to Maeve with a gentle smile on his face. "Hello, Maeve, my dear, you haven't changed a bit."

She was too bewildered to make a coherent response and all she managed was a sickly grin that did nothing to reassure anyone of her sanity.

"And what," Niall asked coldly, "makes you think that?"

"The recent visit from a certain Malachy Meany," the tall man said, piercing Niall with a hard stare. "What surprises me the most is that you didn't see fit to inform me of it or indeed surmise the possible outcome of that visit."

"Why should I?" Niall turned his back on the assembled company and faced the fire, but something in it made him uncomfortable and he turned back to face them again. "What right do you have to her? What makes you think you can protect her any better than I can?"

"Oh come now, Mr O'Malley, that is a foolish question. We have always had Maeve's best interests at heart. While she remained here and certain people believed her dead she was safe. There was no reason to offer her protection. Now, however, I believe things have changed and the time has come to act. She will be returning with us tonight with my protection and will remain under my guard." He turned to Maeve with a warm smile and crossed the room, leaving his companion stranded by the door.

"Maeve, my dear." He approached her chair and she rose stiffly, not sure what was required of her in this situation. It had been a long time since she had seen Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and she felt strangely uncomfortable in his presence. She was no longer the lively witch he had known many years ago and she was only too aware of her dowdy appearance and dead personality. Maeve felt she had nothing to offer him. The suggestion that she was in danger and would be returning to Hogwarts seemed vaguely ridiculous.

"Forgive me," he continued, "we are talking about you as if you were not here." He clasped both her hands in his larger ones and regarded her warmly.

"Nothing to forgive, Professor," she mumbled. "I am used to it."

A look of disappointment quickly flashed across his face, to be replaced by a look of encouragement.

"I am sorry about that, Maeve, I couldn't be more sorry about that. Perhaps I made a mistake…" His voice trailed off slightly as he struggled to return to the point he had wanted to make. "The recent visit by a member of your family may have led to someone undesirable being made aware of your continued existence. I am sure you can see that this puts you in a difficult position. It is necessary to get you away from here before that person comes for you."

"You mean Voldemort, don't you?" she asked, her voice flat. There was a sharp intake of breath from the figure by the doorway, accompanied by a loud snort of false laughter from her father.

"Surely, Dumbledore, you don't believe the rumours in the _Prophet_ that he has returned?" Niall was almost mocking the old wizard now.

"Mr O'Malley, the _Daily Prophet_ may occasionally print rumours and nonsense but I can assure you, having been there myself, that Voldemort has indeed returned and we will be at war again soon."

He turned back to Maeve. "I would like you to pack a few essentials into a bag and leave with us tonight. Of course, I will understand if you would prefer to remain in your home, but I must impress upon you that it is not safe here. We have a car waiting to take us to a boat and we will be making the crossing tonight."

Maeve looked into his bright, steady eyes and then turned her attention to her father's, which were ablaze with indignation and bluster. Finally her gaze turned to the man in the doorway and there she could read nothing. His black eyes watched her with no feeling and his face was expressionless. But it was his presence, more than anything else, that brought her spiralling down to earth and out of her reverie. They had once had a close association, so close that some had predicted a 'happily ever after' for them, despite them being the oddest of couples. Her father had ended their close bond by removing her from the school she had been sent to after her mother's death. They had only met once more after that, and it had been fleeting but memorable, for all the wrong reasons. Yet here he was now looking exactly as he had the last time their lives had converged, despite the number of years that had passed, and giving no indication that he even knew her name.

"Of course," she said to Dumbledore. "Of course I will come. I must do what you think is right."

"No, Maeve. You must do what _you_ think is right. We have taken away your right to choose for many years now and I think perhaps the time has come to put that right." He looked very serious for a moment and she blinked back at him, unused to the concept of choice and all its many implications.

"Well, yes, yes, I think it's right."

Dumbledore appeared to be very relieved and patted her gently on the shoulder.

"Excellent, my dear. I know it will be a wrench leaving your home but I can assure you you will be perfectly comfortable at Hogwarts and, more importantly, safe."

She looked at him with a strange, distant expression on her face and when she spoke she was still detached and aloof.

"Oh, this isn't really my home, Professor. It hasn't been my home for a long time."

Dumbledore glanced across at his companion with a frown on his face and beckoned him over.

"Maeve, Severus will go with you to your room while you pack a bag. I don't want you left alone at all. I can't impress on you enough the need for haste. The sooner we leave the sooner you will be safe. Do you understand?"

She nodded, trying to avoid having to speak directly to Severus Snape, who had been her first, and only, teenage romance and one-time rescuer. She was emotionally unprepared for all of this and her long isolation left her even less able to deal with other people.

"Good," he said. "I will stay here until you are ready to leave. I have a few last words for your father."

Her father grunted as she led Severus from the room, clearly anticipating another ten minutes of Dumbledore moaning at him incessantly. They began to climb the main staircase that rose elegantly from the large hall to the upper floors of the house. As they climbed they could hear raised voices from the dining room, and her shoulders slumped as she wondered if her father would prevent her leaving. By the time she had reached the second floor she was becoming more receptive to the idea of going. The danger wasn't really a factor; after all she might as well be dead with her barely-there existence, so she really had nothing to lose by staying. But the prospect of meeting people again, the prospect of joining the real world, was now a tiny seed that had been planted and was slowly taking root and growing. She could almost feel the lazy unfurling of leaves that promised her a real future.

They reached her room, which was as far away as possible from the rest of the house, tucked away in old servants' quarters that had been enlarged and extended to give her a whole wing to herself. She opened a large oak door and entered the gloom that served as her bedroom. Severus followed her in and was shocked at the drabness of the place she called her home. As fond of the dark as he was, this room was the most depressing place he had ever seen. The walls were cold grey stone with no coverings; the curtains that concealed the small windows were heavy black cotton that hung like ghouls blocking out the only light that could have brightened the room. There were only three pieces of furniture, a bed, a bedside table and a desk. To say it was stark would have been an injustice; there wasn't enough there for it to be stark.

"I won't be long," she said, almost timidly, and he was even more puzzled by the lack of life in what had once been a vivacious young witch who had been one of the most spirited pupils in his year.

"Very well," he said, standing again in the doorway and watching her carefully. He found himself almost afraid, in the way that humans are sometimes afraid of startling wild animals and having them flee from their sight. Not usually the most perceptive of men when it came to feelings, he could not fail but notice that she was, if not exactly frightened, then at the very least made skittish by recent events. And of course, he thought to himself, who wouldn't be?

She glanced at his face and quickly looked away again, unsure whether to try and start a conversation or just get on with her packing. She decided on the latter and from the large wardrobe pulled a brown leather holdall with the letters M.O'M. stencilled in gold on the front of it. He recognised it immediately from her schooldays and was unsurprised to see it looking as pristine as it had then; it hadn't seen much use in the intervening years. She pulled a few dresses from the wardrobe along with a robe of dark green and folded them carefully before placing them in the bottom of the bag. She followed that with some underwear and a hairbrush before closing the wardrobe and crossing to another door that she opened. As soon as he realised it was another room he followed her through the door.

This was a completely different room to the one they had just left and he immediately felt far more at home in it. The walls were painted a celestial blue and were covered with row upon row of shelves. These shelves were weighed down with either books or jars of herbs and other assorted ingredients for potions. There was a collection of cauldrons, measuring cups, mortar and pestles, bottles, and jars lined up neatly on a desk in one corner while in another a sleepy-looking owl rested on a gilded perch. On the wall there was just one picture, a portrait of a young woman with dark brown eyes and flowing black hair, which could only have been her mother. As he stared at the portrait the woman suddenly smiled gently at him and gave a small wave. He quickly looked away and his gaze was drawn to a small object on another desk that sat beneath the only window in the room. It was a small golden orb that seemed to hover slightly above the surface of the desk, it reminded him of a Snitch but it had no wings.

Maeve stood still for a few moments, as if assessing the contents of the room; she looked incongruous amongst all this magical paraphernalia in her faded jeans and sweater with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her preoccupation gave him the opportunity to study her face more closely and it was hard to believe she was any older than when he had last seen her. Her pale skin was still flawless, with just the faint hint of pink to her cheeks, and her eyes still burned with an inner warmth, although they didn't burn quite as brightly as they used to do. Her mouth was full and had a slight touch of lipstick, but apart from that she wore no make up; she had never needed to. The hair that was so cruelly bound was a wonderful burnished shade of red that glowed like fire when the sun shone on it. At least that was how he remembered it; in the darkness of this room it looked as if the fire had gone out of it altogether. Her eyes flickered in his direction and she caught him staring. He looked away quickly, aware that they were pacing around each other warily like two lions in a cage, neither wanting to make the first move.

She selected a few books, picked up the orb and pulled out a small slim box from the drawer of the desk, which caused her to drop the books. Severus quickly moved to pick them up for her. She thanked him awkwardly before taking them from him and moving back into the other room.

"You kept up your potions work, I see," he said, breaking the silence with a deliberately neutral comment.

"Yes," she said, "of course I did. I couldn't let my mother and grandmother down."

"No." The conversation so newly begun ended abruptly.

She stopped moving again and looked around at the bedroom as if for the first time. Sitting down on the bed she dropped the things she had been carrying beside her and sighed. She saw how dreary it all was and how impossible it would have been for her not to become dreary along with it. Why had she allowed this to happen? Loyalty to her father, fear of Voldemort, or perhaps just apathy had caused this exile from life. Was this a way out or was Dumbledore just saving her for a little while, to be deposited back here if and when the threat receded? Perhaps this time she wouldn't allow herself to be shunted into the sidelines of life; perhaps this was her escape not just from Voldemort but also from a cage of her own creation.

"It's awful, isn't it?" she said dejectedly.

"What is?" He was still cold and polite, edgy almost.

"This room." She waved her arm at the walls. "And my life, me…. I have allowed myself to become awful."

"I wouldn't say that." His tone was still noncommittal.

"Well, what would you say, Severus?" She laughed, and there was a bitter tinge to the sound. "I never thought I would say _that_ name again. I never thought I would see any of you again. I had resigned myself to my fate."

"That's a little melodramatic," he said unthinkingly. "You are comfortable here, surely."

"Comfortable!" she spat. "Oh yes, I'm comfortable. If you call living with a father who couldn't care less whether you lived or died comfortable, if you call seeing no one but the butler for years on end comfortable, if you call quietly dying inside for the past however many years comfortable… then, yes, I am supremely comfortable."

"I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me."

He was instantly contrite but also aware that she wasn't alone in suffering like that. He had been equally alone since she had left, although he'd endured the added disadvantage of having countless people around him forming relationships and inadvertently reminding him of that fact.

"Don't worry," she said, brightening suddenly. "Perhaps we have to suffer these things in order to appreciate the good in life... or perhaps I've been reading too many Muggle novels!"

"Perhaps, we really should get going," he urged.

"Do I have time to get changed? I don't feel like arriving at Hogwarts looking like this."

"I don't think Professor Dumbledore is planning on you being seen when you arrive at Hogwarts, but by all means change if you wish." He hesitated. "I can't leave the room but I will look away."

"Thank you."

Awkwardly she slipped out of her jeans and from the wardrobe took a long, dark green dress that dipped in at the waist and then flared out over her hips. Slipping it over her head she already felt like she was casting off her current life. She had not worn her witch's robes and dresses since returning to Abbeylara and she felt strange wearing them now. She pulled another heavy silk robe from the wardrobe, a slightly darker green than the dress, with intricate symbols stitched down the front in black so that they could hardly be seen. Her mother had made this for her and Maeve felt her presence as she slipped it over her shoulders. She freed her hair from the elastic that bound it and shook it loose so that it fell in graceful waves down her back, a little of the fire flowing back through it.

"I'm done," she said, placing the books into her bag.

He turned round and couldn't suppress a small smile. Gone was the dowdy, sad woman and in her place stood a very familiar witch. One that he had known and loved, and he felt like she was coming back. He watched as she opened the box and took out a slim wand, which she slipped into her robes, placing the box into the bag alongside the books. She then took the orb and whispered something inaudible; it slowly opened as if on a hinge to reveal a pendant nestled within on a cushion of silk. When she took it out, Severus could see a glittering circle of bluish moonstone and in the centre there was a glint of gold that he couldn't quite make out. She placed the pendant with its limp chain to her throat and the ends of the chain slowly snaked their way around her neck and joined at the back securely.

"It was my grandmother's," was the only explanation she gave. With the necklace around her throat there was a subtle change to her demeanour, as if the dead exterior was flaking away slowly. Her imminent departure seemed to have woken a dormant creature within her and already he could see a little more of the fire-glow in her eyes and a spark of life on her face.

"Are you ready to go?" He was beginning to get impatient now.

"Yes, I think I have always been ready to go, it just took someone to ask me." She smiled lightly and picked up her bag. "Let's go, Severus."

"Very well, I am sure Professor Dumbledore will be ready for us."

He opened the door swiftly and checked the corridor before beckoning her out of the room with his hand.

"Surely you don't think Voldemort is hiding in the house?" she asked, her mood lightening by the second.

"It's quite possible," he said curtly. "In fact given his hatred of you I would say it is very likely."

"We had better hurry up then, hadn't we?" She was still half smiling. Although now she was beginning to feel the first flickering of new life she suddenly realised death at the hands of Voldemort wouldn't be very convenient. In fact, it would be downright annoying.

They moved swiftly through the house to rejoin Dumbledore and her father in the dining room. Clearly an unhappy agreement had been reached as her father stood, with his arms folded across his chest, looking thunderous.

"We are ready to leave, Professor," Severus announced, as he stood shielding Maeve from her father's angry looks.

"I just want to say," said Niall, with murderous calm, "that this is against my wishes. You are no longer a young girl that I can prevent from leaving, but if you leave you will never return to this house whilst I am alive. I have had enough of you and the inconvenience you bring to my life… It is simply too much. Your mother caused me problems… not least by dying and leaving me with you alone but…"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Maeve jumped at the sound of Severus' raised voice. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK… "

But Dumbledore cut him off quickly.

"No, Severus. Mr O'Malley, before you issue threats like that I suggest you take another look at your late wife's will. May I then suggest you temper your tone towards your daughter." He hesitated over the word "daughter" as if it pained him to say it to this boorish man. "You may well find that this house is not yours to use as a threat against Maeve. Her mother was a very intelligent woman, although clearly she had occasional lapses of judgement."

He turned quickly and swept the other two from the room. As they reached the hall Liam was waiting by the front door looking distraught.

"I'll come back, Liam," Maeve said gently. "I will, despite what he says. And you know you are more than welcome to come and stay with me when I get settled. Perhaps a job could be found for you at Hogwarts." She glanced at Professor Dumbledore who nodded slowly.

"Well, Miss, I would like that very much. I don't think I shall want to stay here much longer with himself." He nodded towards the room they had just vacated.

"Well then, it shall be arranged." She smiled at him and reached across, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Could you pack everything up in my room and have it sent on for me? All the books especially."

"Of course I will, Miss, I'll pack everything carefully. Have a safe journey."

"Thank you, Liam… for everything."

"It has always been my pleasure. You will take care of her?" He looked to Dumbledore who again nodded.

"We will take excellent care of her, my friend. But now we really must leave."

Severus opened the front door cautiously and peered out into the night. A car sat at the foot of the steps, exactly as the large silver one had done earlier in the day. This one was even bigger and glossy black. The night was so dark that she could barely make out the outline of the car as they hurried down the steps. Severus opened the boot and dropped her bag into its vast interior, whilst Dumbledore opened the rear door for her and allowed her to sink gratefully into the warmth of the borrowed Irish Ministry car. He closed the door, strode around to the other side, and got into the front while Severus got into the back beside her. They lost no time in pulling away from the house, and the last view she had was of her sorrowful butler standing at the front door mournfully watching them leave. Once they had reached the gates she turned away from the house and sank into the darkness to be alone with her thoughts for a while. She knew it would take them at least two hours to cross Ireland and reach a port that would allow them to cross to Scotland.

Her thoughts wouldn't organise themselves as she peered into the darkness beyond the car. Random things popped in and out of her head and she was too tired to make any sense of them. She heard Dumbledore speak to the driver and he seemed to be saying that they should be safe now they were clear of the house. Maeve was also aware of the large presence of Severus beside her in the back of the car and this distracted her somewhat. With the speed of their departure she hadn't even begun to figure out where her feelings for him lay, she suspected that they were only just beginning to resurface. She hadn't allowed him to enter her head for many years now; it was futile to torture herself with thoughts of what might have been so she had stopped thinking about anything beyond the walls of her prison. Strange, she smiled to herself, it had gone from home to prison in an evening, and her father had been her chief gaoler.

Severus watched her drifting and felt a rush of something he didn't want to identify. His feelings for her were so caught up in the past that he had a difficult time relating her to his present, to his ambition and position within the school. He usually had no time for emotions; they were an unnecessary distraction from work that clouded a person's judgement and made them fallible. Their youth and naiveté had led them to believe that their teenage attraction had been something more serious and, despite the incident with Voldemort and the fact she had inadvertently turned him against his one time master, he still wasn't sure of his feelings for her. She turned to look at him. In the darkness he felt, rather than saw, her eyes questioning him, seeking, perhaps, some reassurance that this time things would work out well. He couldn't offer her any reassurance; times were about to get hard and life dangerous. There were no guarantees that they would survive.

The car drove on through the night, as the weather took a turn for the worse. Rain began to fall and high winds whipped it against the windows of the car causing the outside world to become distorted by the rivulets of water. Eventually she slept, her head lolling against the cold window while the other occupants of the car stared tensely into the dark night that surrounded them.


	2. A Stormy Passage

Chapter Two

A Stormy Passage.

The boat that was to carry them across the restless Irish Sea was a small and weather-beaten fishing vessel that had been borrowed from the Muggle father of a local wizard. Fortunately, it was too dark for the travellers to see just how weather-beaten or they might have doubted its seaworthiness. Times were hard for fishermen and the money needed to keep their boats in good condition just wasn't available.

Dumbledore got out of the car first and went across in the buffeting winds to have a quick word with the fisherman, who stood on the quayside slapping his arms against his sides in an effort to stave off the sudden chill that had appeared in the air. It was late July but, despite the earlier summer warmth, when the wind blew in off the Atlantic and round the tip of Antrim it made everything unseasonably cold.

Severus shook Maeve's shoulder gently and she started. Opening her eyes quickly she sat up, panic stricken.

"What! What is it?" she asked frantically, pulled from dreams that were not altogether restful.

"It's all right; we are at the harbour. Professor Dumbledore has just gone to check the boat is ready for us." His steady voice reassured her and she slumped back again. The weather and the cloak-and-dagger style of their departure were beginning to make her jumpy and nervous. She wished they could have done this during the day, when everything would have seemed far less sinister. At this moment in time, the light and warmth of the sun would have been a welcome relief.

"I'm sorry, I think I'm just tired." She pressed a weary hand to her forehead to try and stave off the headache that was starting to creep across her temples.

"It's understandable," he said, "considering the circumstances and the lateness of hour."

Dumbledore hurried back to the car, with his robes billowing around him in the wind, and motioned for them to get out. Severus collected her bag from the boot while Dumbledore escorted her through the rain to the shifting boat. She stepped carefully onto the gangplank and then quickly dropped down onto the deck of the boat that bobbed like a cork in the restless waters. Severus and Dumbledore swiftly followed her and the fisherman was last aboard, bringing with him the plank of wood.

"I'm sorry about the weather," he said, to no one in particular. "These sudden summer storms can be fierce." His heavily lined face was testament to this fact. Even in the semi-darkness it was clear that here was a man who had spent all his life out of doors, exposed to the elements.

"Not to worry," Dumbledore said heartily. "Let's get started. The quicker we leave, the quicker we will arrive." This cheery enthusiasm was lost on the fisherman though, as he grimaced slightly.

"Aye well, just be warned, the crossing may be rough." He didn't like taking people out without giving them adequate warning of the harsh conditions they could expect.

"What's your name?" Maeve asked suddenly. She wanted at least to know the name of the man to whom they were entrusting their safety, and clearly no one was about to make any introductions.

"It's Fin, Fin Keane," he said, peering closely at her "You'll be the lady that's the cause of these night-time wanderings then?"

Despite his rough exterior, Fin Keane had a very warm heart and the sight of this poor woman with her bedraggled hair and tired eyes made him feel sorrier than he had for a long time. Professor Dumbledore had given him a few sketchy details and, by putting two and two together, he had come to the conclusion that she had been treated badly by her family and was now being pursued by something wicked.

"I'm sorry if you have been inconvenienced, Mr Keane," she said quietly. "I know it's a bad night to be out."

"Aye, not to worry, glad to do a favour for my old friend Dumbledore." He winked at the older wizard. "Come on then… away in with you before you get any wetter." He pushed open the creaky door of the cabin. "And I hope none of yis suffers from seasickness," he added ominously as they entered the small room.

The interior of the boat was simple but clean. A table sat snugly between two wooden benches, and there was a primitive galley across from it that contained a hob, a toaster and a kettle. There were cupboards that presumably contained pots and pans and other culinary prerequisites but no one seemed inclined to investigate them. Further on, a door covered with peeling black paint led through to the boat's controls and radio. It was through this door that Fin Keane went, with an invitation to them to make themselves drinks if they wished.

Once the door had closed behind him, Maeve asked the two men if they wanted her to make some tea but they both declined and she slipped gratefully on to one of the benches. Dumbledore and Severus looked at each other and Dumbledore spoke first.

"I'll stand the first watch, Severus, if you want to try and sleep. I'll wake you around three and you can take over until morning." The older wizard was already making his way to the door.

"As you wish, Professor," Severus agreed, taking the opposite bench to Maeve. She had already let her head sink onto her arms, which she'd crossed on the tabletop, forming a makeshift pillow, and closed her eyes. Fatigue was rapidly overcoming her and she just wanted to sleep, despite the intrusive rocking of the board and the roar of the recently fired engine. Severus tried to do the same, but found the position too uncomfortable and the engine too noisy, even though once clear of the harbour walls it quietened to a gentle chug. He contented himself with watching her sleep through his lowered lashes.

It was a very intimate thing to watch people sleep, Severus realised. They looked so off-guard and vulnerable. She breathed softly, disturbing the strands of hair that had fallen across her face, and her forehead was set in an unconscious frown. Her long lashes were resting gently against the whiteness of her face, emphasising their darkness, and her mouth was parted slightly, as if she were about to speak.

Snape once again fell to musing about her; her inaccessibility had made it easy enough for him to forget about her, especially since that inaccessibility had been for her own safety. Now that she was here in front of him, a living, breathing person, she was reawakening things he would have rather been left slumbering. The feeling was disconcerting. Even worse was the knowledge that she would be living under the same roof as him, albeit a very large and spacious roof. He wondered how she had passed her years of isolation; he had been genuinely pleased to see that she seemed to have been keeping up with her potions work. When they had been at school they had both shown an incredible aptitude for Potions and had spent many happy hours pouring over cauldrons and ancient magical recipes. Experimentation had been their favourite pursuit; they quickly mastered the tasks set before them by their teachers and drew ahead of their classmates with their constant testing of new formulas.

For her this had been simply a continuation of her mother's teachings, but for him it had been a revelation. His father had always been a dark soul, both in temperament and skill, and harsh words had flown throughout his childhood home as if they were dust mites. So when his only son had shown a preference for Potions at school, his father had been none too pleased. He had bullied and threatened his son to take more of an interest in the darker arts, and to use the knowledge he had already learned at home to his advantage at school. And Severus had given in to his father's wishes, proving to be years ahead of most of the other children in his year when it came to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Unfortunately, this also drew some undesired attention to him and he gained a reputation for being slightly disturbed.

He didn't show the same aptitude for Quidditch, which he would dearly have loved to be good at for the popularity it guaranteed, but his skill with a broomstick was merely average. It was the same with wand work; he was more than competent, but never showed much interest in waving wands about. Severus was a man who liked a puzzle. He liked something delicate, where subtlety and a little finesse were required, and he lost no time in making his pupils aware of this predilection.

Of course, he should have hated Maeve O'Malley on sight. She immediately challenged him in classes and was a constant barb around the school grounds. She was bright and fiery with a great sense of humour (something Severus had no concept of; to him humour was for insulting others, for her it was to make them laugh) and her following was considerable. Added to this was the pursuit several of the more popular males in their year and she should have been sickening because of her popularity.

But Maeve O'Malley had had other ideas, and had politely shunned the worst of the attention and instead focused on a few close friends. Lily Evans, who had been in the same house as her, became her closest female friend and, much to everyone's astonishment, Severus and Maeve had become inseparable within weeks of meeting. He didn't make friends easily; in fact he rarely made friends at all. Even his Slytherin housemates had kept their distance from Snivellus Snape.

Severus and Maeve hadn't advertised the fact they were becoming close and it was only after several months that it began to be remarked upon. Shortly after this the endless teasing by James Potter and Sirius Black stopped altogether, and life began to look up. It continued to look up for three years, until Maeve was suddenly withdrawn from the school by her father and Severus found himself spiralling back down into introspection, blind ambition and an altogether darker outlook on life.

Despite himself, he fell asleep to the soft moan of the engine and it was only when he felt a hand on his shoulder that he woke up again. Dumbledore was smiling down on him. "It's three o'clock, Severus."

"Right, Professor," he said sluggishly and stood up, unbending stiffened limbs. "You rest now, and I'll keep watch."

They switched places and Severus found himself staring out of the door at the rough sea and the torrential rain. Sailing had never been his idea of fun and this was just abysmal, with the boat pitching and rolling from side to side. Although he didn't suffer from seasickness, the constant motion was beginning to make him feel distinctly green around the gills and he would be more than happy once he was back on dry land again. The sky was black and heavy with clouds so there was no break in the darkness and no light to guide their way. After half an hour of this he began to get bored and made up Arithmancy puzzles in his head to divert his attention from the mind-numbing vastness of nothing. A sound behind him made him turn and he saw that Maeve was awake and getting up from the table to join him.

"What time is it?" she asked quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping Dumbledore.

"Almost four," he answered. "Dawn won't be far away now."

"It's always darkest just before, so they say," she said, peering out into the inky world beyond the boat. It was a very humbling feeling for Maeve to realise how small and seemingly pointless she was in the face of such vast nothingness. How easy it would be to lose herself in such a huge world, and who would ever find her?

"Doesn't the size of us compared to the size of it frighten you sometimes?" she asked him.

"The size of what?" he replied, not following her train of thought.

"The world." She looked at him with a strange expression on her face, one of almost wonderment. "Doesn't it amaze you that we are so small compared to the hugeness of the universe we live in. What do we matter at all?"

"You're attempting to philosophise again, aren't you? You did that a lot." He looked at her with something bordering on affection.

"Did I?" she smiled and they fell into an uncomfortable silence. They stood watching the aft of the boat dip and rise rhythmically until she could bear the silence no longer and broke it with a question.

"How have you been, Severus?" she asked.

"I've been well, all things considered." He looked at her, trying to assess if this answer would be enough. It clearly wasn't.

"Are you still working at Hogwarts?" She tried to sound cheerful, but it was difficult since she couldn't read Severus' emotions. Once she had been able to read him well enough, but now there was uncertainty.

"Yes, I'm the Potions master," he said this with thinly veiled pride, despite his ambitions in other areas.

"Married?" She couldn't believe she had asked that and cringed inwardly.

He raised a dark eyebrow at this question.

"That's a little personal but no, I'm not married."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I see some news in the _Daily Prophet_, which is how I already knew you were the Potions master." She reddened under his scrutiny. She had no idea why she had asked if he was married. It wasn't as if they were about to rekindle a childhood romance, and it was the sort of foolish question that was likely to make him withdraw into himself. She should have known better.

"Then you will also have heard the news of the Dark Lord," he said ominously.

"Yes, I have. I followed the saga of Harry Potter and the awful events at the Triwizard Tournament, and then the problems at the Ministry. They wouldn't believe him, would they, and he was right all along." She wondered why, at the mention of Harry Potter, his face clouded.

"Yes, well, the famous Harry Potter does rather love the limelight and gets himself into all sorts of impossible situations. It is hardly surprising he isn't believed." His voice was cold now and she wondered what had happened between him and the boy.

"You don't like Harry Potter?" she queried.

"No." The answer was short and seemed aimed at deterring her from pursuing that particular subject, but she pressed on regardless.

"Why not? He is Lily's son, so he must have inherited some of her good nature." She couldn't imagine a child of her friend turning into a horrible, limelight-loving prima donna, but all things were possible, even if they were also unlikely.

"He is also James' son… and we both know how impossible that man was. The famous Harry Potter seems to take after his father more and more each day," he asserted.

"Severus, I can't believe that Harry is a precocious brat. James had his faults, but he had good qualities too. I also can't imagine it's been easy for Harry, growing up without his parents." She knew what it was like to lose a parent and it hurt no matter what age.

Severus grew angry now and glared at her with eyes as black as the night surrounding them.

"I do NOT want to discuss this with you, Maeve. I am here to do a job, not be questioned about certain personalities who couldn't control themselves. Why don't you go and get some sleep before we arrive and leave me in peace?" He looked away from her to some point in the distance that was indefinable. Stung, she returned to the table and watched as the sun slowly rose into the sky and dispatched both the rain and the night.

Severus stayed at his post with resentment burning inside him. Why did life always have to come back to Harry Potter, no matter where he was or what he was doing? Couldn't he escape the child for more than two minutes? He was sorry he had been short with Maeve, but he wasn't good with apologies or backing down and so left the bad feeling hanging in the air between them. He knew how close she had been to Lily, and perhaps he shouldn't have been so dismissive of Harry in front of her, but these things sometimes had to be said. He would be immensely irritated if she immediately fell for Potter's selfish, devil-may-care attitude. He knew these things shouldn't annoy him but, nevertheless, they did.

Professor Dumbledore stirred and immediately looked at the sun.

"Ah, we must be nearly there," he said, standing up slowly and shaking away the light sleep. "It is seven o'clock by the sun and so we must sight land soon."

He was instantly aware of the slight shift in atmosphere between his two companions, who had gone from wary friendliness to vague hostility, and he wondered why. Now was not the time to ask though, as he spotted a bird flying starboard of the boat.

"Anyone expecting an owl?" he asked, and both Severus and Maeve followed the direction of his gaze. Maeve immediately smiled.

"It's Bran, my owl," she said with delight. "Liam must have set him free, knowing he would find me."

She brushed past Severus and went out onto the wet deck where the wind whipped her hair around her face. Holding out her arm, she stood while the owl whirled round and landed neatly on her forearm. She stroked his feathers gently, although the bird looked slightly annoyed and refused to look at her.

"How could I have left you, old friend," she whispered. "You will have to forgive me, it was all so rushed."

The owl hooted, pecking at her fingers affectionately, and she turned around and took him inside the boat. The owl and Severus glared at each other as if coming to an instant and mutual loathing, for reasons neither could fathom.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "We will arrive shortly, Maeve, and there will be a carriage waiting to drive us through to Hogwarts. It will not be far from our landing spot and the weather is fairer than when we left."

He paused as if deliberating how to put his next point to her, before deciding upon the direct approach.

"It is very important that you are not seen entering the school because, whilst there are no pupils there at the moment, there are staff and although I trust them, you are one secret that I would rather keep from them until the time is right."

"Do you wish me to adopt a disguise, Professor?" she asked. "Change my appearance, perhaps?"

"I do indeed," he smiled at her quick understanding, wondering how she would take to the idea of the plan that had been formulated only the day before.

"Is there anything in particular you would like me to adopt?" she asked, relishing the idea of using some of her magical abilities again.

"Well yes, there is." He slipped a hand into his robes and pulled out a photograph." I want you to become this person's sister."

Severus had come closer to see whose picture Dumbledore had produced and he gave a gasp of surprise when he saw the image.

"That's Lupin!" he said, astonished. The man in the picture was smiling up at them benignly; he nodded politely in Maeve's direction.

"It is," said Dumbledore, with a gleam in his eye.

Maeve took the picture and surveyed the ravaged face, with its careworn look and deeply etched lines around the eyes. The hair was flecked with grey, and from what she could see of his clothes they were shabby and lived in. But his eyes smiled out from the picture and there was a sweet look to his face that made her smile involuntarily. He looked like someone who had grown to be very likeable.

"Lupin? Remus Lupin?" she said peering even closer. "Is that really Remus?"

"Aged, hasn't he?" sneered Snape. "More than you would expect."

"Yes, well Remus had a lot to contend with, if I remember correctly," she hit back, annoyed at his tone and suddenly feeling the need to defend the man in the picture. "What is he doing now?"

"It is difficult for him to find work, but he scrapes by," Dumbledore said sadly. "And he works for me occasionally."

"But not as a teacher, thankfully. That only lasted a year," Snape added from the doorway, where he had retreated once more.

"Oh, give it a rest, Severus," Maeve snapped. "Remus was a lovely person and I can't imagine he has changed much."

"Remus was weak and cared only for himself," Snape snarled, not ready to give up on the argument just yet.

"That's not true and you know it," she said quickly. "You chose to see only the bad in him, which, when I come to think of it you do rather a lot, don't you!" Her eyes were blazing with fire and Dumbledore could only stand back and look on. Normally he would have acted as peacemaker but he had forgotten what it was like to see Severus being chastised by someone he genuinely respected.

"I do not see the bad in everyone. It is just sometimes very difficult to see any good." His defence was faltering and he knew it.

"Severus, sometimes you set your standards impossibly high and refuse to see anything good in anyone that doesn't rise to your dizzy heights." Her hands were on her hips now and she was furious with him, and with herself for letting herself get so wound up by him. "Was that why you tolerated me? Because I at least met your high standards?"

"That's not true!" his voice rose and now Dumbledore felt he had to intervene.

"Enough, Severus, Maeve," he said firmly. "You may argue to your heart's content at another time, but we are not alone here and we need to maintain awareness and our senses."

They both looked abashed, immediately transported back twenty years to their schooldays where, on more than one occasion, they had been spoken to severely by teachers for their "heated discussions".

"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore," Maeve said, instantly repentant for her impassioned words. No such apology was forthcoming from Severus, however, who merely stood by the door with his arms folded across his chest, glowering at her.

"So as soon as we are safely in the carriage, I would like you to effect the transformation," he said shifting the conversation back to the original subject. "You will have no problems?"

"No, I still have the ability, although I haven't used it for a while." This was an understatement, because she had last transformed sixteen years ago.

"Hang on," Severus chipped in again. "Are you saying you are a Metamorphmagus?"

"Yes," she replied quickly.

"So why didn't you use that ability to get out of your house and meet people? Why stay stuck behind those walls all this time?" He asked the question as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And why didn't I know?" he added.

"I rather think that's Maeve's business, don't you, Severus? I am sure there were reasons." Dumbledore was firing warning glances at his Potions master now, aware that Maeve's patience was wearing thin, but she kept a hold on her temper this time.

"You know, Severus, it never really occurred to me to do that." She gave a light chuckle. "It seems I can be terminally stupid after all… am I a disappointment to you now, or will you still talk to me?"

"You didn't need to be imprisoned," he noted flatly, and walked out onto deck leaving them alone.

"I'm sorry, Maeve," Dumbledore began, but she cut him off.

"Professor, we both know that Severus has had a difficult time, and sometimes he relates to people badly. Strangely, his vulnerability was one of the things that attracted me to him, that and his over- abundance of brains. I hope one day that he will not be so hard on himself and allow his feelings a free rein, but I rather suspect we will have to wait a long time if we wish to see it."

"Forgive my asking, but do you still care for him?" Dumbledore knew only too well how much his Potions master had suffered after Voldemort's attack on her and one of his initial misgivings about bringing her back had been Snape's reaction to her. Apart from Severus being an excellent wizard in a tight spot, this journey had also been a good opportunity to study them apart from others.

"Yes," she answered immediately and unequivocally "How could I not?"

"Time sometimes has a way of erasing feelings and memories if we don't take care of them...I thought that, perhaps..."

As he struggled to find the right words she shook her head. "Professor, I have nothing but those memories to hold on to. The rest of my life has been working with potions at home, and honing some of my other skills. My last real human interaction was with Severus, so of course I still care for him. Would I have liked to see him happier than when we last met? Of course I would… but I am not sure he can be happy, not yet at any rate." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Nor am I. His ambition and commitment to his work is such that I fear there is little room for happiness in his life." Dumbledore agreed with her completely about Severus Snape, and wished the past had been different. He would have been a very different man had Niall O'Malley not acted vindictively all those years ago and removed his daughter from the school. Severus had never found a second chance, and from then on had never given anyone else one.

"How is Remus?" she asked, conscious of his smiling face looking up at her and wanting to put some space between her emotions and Severus Snape.

"In truth he has changed little. He is a loyal and courageous man who has suffered at the hands of others and yet maintains a compassion and an understanding few could demonstrate." He looked at her thoughtfully before continuing.

"My plan in brief" – here he lowered his voice so that she had to strain to hear – "Is that I wish for you to become my Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year in the guise of Remus' sister. I don't want to speak too much about it now, but Remus will be waiting for us at Hogwarts and I want to introduce the two of you to see if you think you can make it work. It will do no harm if you already look the part." He sat back and watched her face to see what her reaction would be.

She drew away in surprise, and felt aware of an unexpected apprehension that had more to do with a roomful of children than with any dark magic.

"But I know nothing about teaching," she said warily, unwilling to voice her concerns about roomfuls of children and their high expectations.

"No, but you know an awful lot about the Dark Arts and their application, and you will be one of the few who have faced Voldemort."

He didn't get a chance to elaborate on this though because the door from the bridge opened and Fin poked his face in the room, causing them to stop speaking immediately. He grinned at their sudden silence.

"Hush-hush is it? I understand." He tapped his finger to the side of his nose conspiratorially. "Well here we are…first sight of land. We'll be docking in about twenty minutes, so be prepared to disembark."

"Thank you, Fin, you have done a superb job, despite the weather." Dumbledore was indeed very grateful to this man who had taken on the trip knowing it could well be dangerous if Voldemort had acted quickly, and had still chosen to help them out.

"Och, it's nothing, Professor," he said quickly, before shutting himself back in the bridge, filled with pleasure at the praise.

She handed back the photograph to Dumbledore and looked towards the green landmass that was growing ever larger. What was she getting herself into, and from what had she just been extricated?


	3. A Discordant Note

A Discordant Note

The boat slowly rounded the headland, riding the rolling white horses with determination. On the other side of the harbour, vertical cliffs fell to the sea as if someone had sliced through the rock with a viciously sharp knife. Lush, green grass carpeted the tops of these flat-faced walls of rock right up to their edges, where a few solitary trees clung to the brink in defiance of the gravity that would pull them towards the roaring waves below. The base of the cliff was dotted with caves that echoed to the sound of the relentless tides, whose lashing battered a beach strewn with pebbles and very little else. Cutting into the sea, between the cliffs and the headland opposite, was a small harbour whose walls were in dire need of repair, the stone defences riddled with cracks both large and small. As they drew closer to the walls, they could see the buildings that skirted the harbour were just ruins and had not been inhabited for many years. Old cottages with roofs that had long since disintegrated had become home to assorted wildlife. There were the rotting hulls of abandoned boats by the water's edge, their aged wood beaten into submission by the unsympathetic elements.

This, Fin informed them, was Baile-Bhroin, a desolate place that neither man nor beast visited, unless by unhappy accident. The story related in pubs and inns across that part of the country was that smugglers had worked from the caves lining the cove, until one night there had been a wicked storm. A ship had tried to take shelter in the harbour, but the smugglers, immediately recognising it as a merchant ship, had put out the harbour lights and caused the ship to be thrashed to pieces on the rocks that lay just beyond the harbour wall. Unfortunately for the smugglers, and the residents of the harbour village who had stood by and allowed them to do it, the ship turned out to belong to an Irish warlord who didn't take too kindly to having his ships wrecked. This man was a particularly vindictive soul who sent a raiding party to burn the village and seal up the inhabitants in one of the caves where the illicit plunder had been stored. The smugglers had been tied up and set atop a pyre at the harbour mouth, as the Irish Lord had sailed his boats out by the light of their burning bodies. It was said the keening of the womenfolk could still be heard to this day. The forsaken place was so filled with fear and horror that no one ever came near to it.

Maeve shuddered when Fin told her this story, as he deftly manoeuvred the boat into the safety of the harbour walls. She scanned the cliffs, looking for a cave whose entrance was covered, but they were all open, like black maws drinking from the blue-green water. As she listened, she could have sworn that the screeching carried by the wind wasn't just the cry of the gulls that wheeled overhead. In her own mind, she heard the wails of those desperate women from long ago.

Had someone unfamiliar with the tale, and consequently unconcerned by a haunted village, been walking along the cliff edge, the three figures jumping from the boat would have seemed a strange sight indeed. With their flowing robes of varying hues, Dumbledore's strange, bejewelled flat hat and an owl fluttering around them, they made for unusual viewing. Fortunately, there were no such observers present and they were able to step into the waiting carriage unobserved. The carriage itself was drawn by one of the Hogwarts Thestrals, although Dumbledore was quick to point out that the carriage was under enchantment. Had any Muggles actually glimpsed them, all they would have seen was an ageing Ford Mondeo car with a slightly bent bumper and a broken wing mirror.

There wasn't much room inside the stuffy, black-lined carriage once they were all in place. Maeve sat opposite the two men with her bag and Bran next to her on the seat. Bran was still glowering at Severus, who was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable under the owl's scrutiny and he started to dream up ways that they could 'lose' the bird. The bird, sensing the beginnings of a plot, glowered even harder.

"We should be there in an hour or so," Dumbledore informed her, as she watched the passing scenery change from the verdant green of the valleys to the more rugged purple beginnings of the mountainous region that was home to Hogwarts. "Perhaps you should consider making the changes now," he prompted gently.

"Will I have to stay this way for the foreseeable future?" she asked.

"That would be your decision, my dear, but for your safety I would advise you not to change back until some sort of resolution has been found." Dumbledore's face expressed sympathy. He knew only too well the monumental effort it took a Metamorphmagus to maintain a change for any length of time. He just hoped that Maeve had enough strength in her to endure this for as long as was necessary.

They both knew a resolution could be a very long time off, and so Maeve resigned herself to losing her own identity indefinitely. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. On the one hand it was exciting, taking on a new persona. It would be challenging and give her the opportunity to explore the world from a different perspective. But it would also be unsettling on top of everything she had gone through in the past day, to lose her own identity also. She came to the conclusion that the only way she would ever know how it would make her feel was to get on with it.

"Could I have the photograph back, Professor?" she asked, reaching out her hand for the proffered image. A still-smiling Remus Lupin was passed between them.

Once she had it, she concentrated on the face that was now grinning openly at her, as if he knew what she was attempting to do and was giving encouragement. It was easy enough for Maeve to transform her hair colour or her features just because she fancied a change, but it was far harder to transform into a completely different person. It required a great deal of concentration and skill to make everything match up convincingly. The first time she had tried it she had ended up with the eyes and forehead of a toddler and the hooked nose and hairy chin of a ninety-year-old woman. It had put her off the whole thing for some time.

Frowning heavily, she focused her mind and both professors watched, fascinated, as first her hair lost its golden glow and changed to a pale brown colour, while becoming considerably shorter in the process. Her cheekbones and nose changed to match the man in the picture and her eyes lost their depth as they became a lighter shade of brown. Her clothes remained the same though, and she left her body exactly as it was; it would be hard enough living with a different head without losing her body as well. Once finished, she looked to them both for a reaction because, apart from a lightness to her head from the loss of so much hair, she felt no different.

"Marvellous work," Dumbledore announced, pleased at the results. There was undoubtedly a resemblance between the woman sitting in front of him and Remus Lupin. It was subtle and convincing. "We shall have no trouble passing you off as Remus' sister," he said with satisfaction, and some relief.

"I'm not so sure, Professor," she said doubtfully. In her opinion it took far more than just looks to convince people that you were who you said you were.

"Nor am I," Snape agreed hotly. "For a start, I am not sure the Dark Lord will be fooled by such trickery. I also wonder how secret we can keep this. Her father already knows she has left for Hogwarts."

"My father may be a boor, but he wouldn't openly betray me," Maeve said indignantly. Severus gave her a look that could have frozen Firewhisky, for he clearly didn't share her optimism. Giving people the benefit of the doubt could, and often did, backfire. Severus hoped that this would not be one of those occasions.

"And what happens when people start asking questions about this sister that appears from nowhere? I went to school with Lupin and I know he didn't have sister," Severus argued.

"Actually," Dumbledore said, "Remus Lupin did have a sister. When he was bitten his parents sent her away for her own safety. The tragic irony is that she was killed on the journey. It was a terrible accident involving a dragon over the Swiss Alps. His parents wanted it kept very quiet, and to all intents and purposes the girl is still alive somewhere. The Lupins were always a very private family; it is not inconceivable that the child can make a quiet return."

"You are asking her to take the identity of a dead girl?" Severus was openly incredulous. "Surely that is tempting fate in a rather obvious way."

"It is not ideal, Severus, but it is the best we can do," Dumbledore said.

"And how do his parents feel about this?" Maeve asked. Stepping into a dead girl's shoes hadn't been part of the initial bargain. She also didn't want to have to endure any Sunday lunches with Remus' parents looking at her over the roast beef, wondering if that's what their real daughter would have looked like. The thought made her shudder.

"His parents are dead," Dumbledore said sadly. "They died a few years ago. Remus is a lonely man, a very lonely man."

"It's a completely ridiculous plan," Severus insisted vehemently. He ignored the look of regret in Dumbledore's eyes at the losses that Remus Lupin had suffered over the years. Nor did he see Maeve's appreciation of this sentiment.

"It will buy us time, at least," Dumbledore reassured them. "I have no doubt that Maeve can be convincing in her new role, and very few people will know her true identity. Those people are ones whose trust is beyond question. Whether or not Voldemort is fooled for long remains to be seen, but for now he will assume I have sent Maeve into hiding somewhere. He will hardly suspect that the sister of Remus Lupin is the same woman he so desperately wants to control."

"He doesn't want to control me, he wants to kill me," Maeve said darkly, taking out a mirror from her bag to view the results, "and you know, I still don't know why that is." She stopped playing with her new hair and looked at them both as if expecting them to give her an answer. Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"Nor do we, really, my dear. But it is up to us to see he doesn't reach you. No doubt these things will become clear with time." And with that he settled back against the seat with a deceptively calm look on his face.

The final leg of the journey led them through thick forests and mountains, and they were soon lost to the Muggle world entirely. As they rounded a bend in the road, the trees gave way to open fields. At the end of the road they were travelling on, Maeve could see gates that flashed fire in the light. They drew closer, and she could see the gates were flanked with pillars, atop which were two winged boars cast in stone. Her last sight of these had been a backward glance from her father's car as they swept away from the school all those years ago. The gate swung open and, as she leaned out of the carriage window, she was presented with her first glimpse of Hogwarts since she had left it as a child.

Her time there should have been an unhappy period, so close to her mother's death, but she could only look back on her schooldays with fondness. The three years had flown by so fast and she had learned so much, both in terms of magic and of herself, that she could only view the place with gratitude, not remorse. The enormous building came closer and closer until soon she could make out the individual features of the walls and turrets. Before long they were passing the cliff that overlooked the lake, on the approach to the main entrance to the school. The courtyard was bathed in sunlight and the windows twinkled brightly, giving a dazzling appearance to the front of the school.

As they drew up in front of the imposing doors there wasn't a soul in sight, so Dumbledore lost no time in getting Maeve out of the carriage. He quickly led her up the steps and into the school while giving instructions to Severus to see that Hagrid took care of the Thestral. She felt happy memories flood over her as they walked hurriedly through corridors that were lit with flickering torches. Suits of armour lined their path, while on the walls there were inquisitive portraits whose inhabitants followed their direction with whispered speculation. Forgetting the distressing circumstances in which she had been suddenly removed from the school, she could only think of the happy times. Dumbledore took her directly to her room, which was located on the third floor and was adjacent to what would be her office. He had no wish to advertise her presence along the corridors until they were sure of her new persona.

They entered through the office itself, which was bare and contained a large oak desk whose companion was an equally large chair. The chair itself was violently upholstered in dark pink velvet and appeared to hover without any visible means of support. Along the walls were empty shelves that had a thick veneer of dust, just waiting for someone to come along and make use of them again. In the corner by the window stood a grandfather clock that ticked with a rhythmic slow movement, quietly marking the passage of time. The curtains at the window were of the same fabric as the chair and fell in masses of folds to the floor where they lay forming a sea of frothy, pink waves. Maeve wasn't sure she liked the pink; it looked like a blancmange that had seeped out of the windowpanes and was attempting to take over the room.

"Obviously you will want to brighten the place up a bit with your own things, books, equipment… Professor Lupin always kept some very interesting creatures in here and Alastor had some rather fascinating gadgets." Dumbledore opened the door to the connecting room, waving her through with an enthusiastic hand.

She now found herself in a very comfortable sitting room with two huge oriel windows that faced south over the lake, offering views of the surrounding countryside. A healthy fire blazed in the fireplace, which was topped with a portrait of a handsome, middle-aged wizard who winked rather rakishly at her. She glanced away in embarrassment at his scrutiny and couldn't help wondering if she could live with him or whether he would have to go. As if he sensed that his time might be short, he turned away with a huffy flick of his robe and pretended to polish his monocle. In front of the fire were two large sofas of green velvet that looked impossibly comfortable and spread in front of them was a huge Persian rug that was intricately patterned, reflecting the fire's warmth up into the room. As she watched it, she could have sworn the corner twitched, but despite keeping a close eye on the thing for a few minutes it didn't happen again so she presumed it was a trick of the light. An assortment of bookcases, sideboards and cabinets lined the walls. These empty pieces of furniture covered all available space except for the large door that was opposite the one they had just entered by. This door led to her bedroom, and here again the furnishings were luxurious. A huge four-poster bed dominated the room with pale, silken drapes hanging from its rails, matching the bed linen that covered it. A smaller fire burned in here and thankfully there was no portrait above it, although the view from the window was the same. There was a large mahogany wardrobe in one corner and a huge, ornate cheval mirror in the other with a dressing table taking up the corner by the fire.

"This is wonderful," she said, excited by the comfort and warmth of it all. "I couldn't have expected such luxury."

"We do have to make some effort to match your delightful home," he remarked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, I'd say you had managed it very well. It's certainly beautiful and I can't wait to get all my things installed." She grinned as she put her bag down on the bed, causing the silk to crumple beneath the pressure. Bran, who had been hovering around her since they had arrived, took up a perch on the curtain pole and settled his head into his chest for what would probably be an extremely long rest after his flight to the boat.

"Well, he certainly looks at home," Dumbledore smiled, "but we will have a proper perch sent up for him. I am sure he would be more comfortable."

She crossed to the window and surveyed the view. The lake reflected the morning sunshine, making her blink at the glassy intensity of the light. In the distance, she could she the forests stretching to meet the purple mountains. The window was open a little way, allowing in the sweet, earthy scent of the trees and open water. It reminded her of home and in a small way she took some comfort from that. Despite the circumstances that had forced her to stay within the bounds of Abbeylara, she still loved her old house.

"It hasn't changed at all has it?" she said. Her eyes were over-bright with happiness at coming back to Hogwarts. The feeling that time had stood still, waiting for her to catch up, was a very powerful one.

"And hopefully it never will… despite the coming times." His voice carried a note of melancholy, which served to remind them of why she was here and the task ahead of her. As she came down to earth with a sobering bump, Maeve forgot her sudden happiness and turned back to the Headmaster.

"How bad do you believe it will be?" she asked earnestly.

"I believe it will be the worst we have seen," he said, his eyes following her gaze out over his domain. "I believe that, despite our better preparedness, this time it is a fight that Voldemort will not give up. We have to steel ourselves for the worst possible outcome, and pray for the best. You will meet Harry Potter this term and within that child there lies the future of our kind. It may sound a little fanciful, but I do not think this is an understatement on my part." He wondered how she would get along with Harry, and how much she would be reminded of her former school friend Lily. It would be a bittersweet meeting, of that he was sure.

"Severus mentioned Harry. I understand there is some conflict there." She wondered why Dumbledore believed Harry to be so important but assumed he had his reasons; Dumbledore always had his reasons.

The professor sighed deeply and with some considerable sorrow.

"The relationship between the two has broken down completely, which is partly my fault and partly theirs. Severus resents Harry because he is so much like James. He bears a grudge against Sirius and Remus because of the incidents when they were at school. Of course, Sirius did nothing to appease Severus in the short time that he had between fleeing Azkaban and falling into the veil. Harry's loyalty to his godfather put them on a collision course from which neither has deviated. I fear the situation is irredeemable." He shook his head, and she sensed his despondency on this particular subject. "I confess that I am at a loss as to what to do with them."

A businesslike rapping on the outer door announced the arrival of a visitor, making Maeve jump in the process. Dumbledore motioned for her to stay where she was as he went to see who it was.

"Remus!" she heard him exclaim. "How good of you to come and find us. Our new professor is through here and I am sure she will be delighted to meet you again." Their voices grew louder as they moved through to the sitting room.

"Well of course, I couldn't wait when Severus told me you had arrived." The new voice sounded husky but pleasant, with a genial quality to it. She left the bedroom to join them in the sitting room and was immediately taken aback by just how tired-looking her former classmate was. The photograph had not fully conveyed the world-weary aura that surrounded him, but if she was taken by surprise it was nothing to his reaction upon seeing her.

"Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed, looking at her in astonishment. "That's quite incredible." His faded eyes lit up at the transformation she had achieved, and this was the first indication Maeve had that she might be able to pull off the deception.

"I shall take that as a compliment," she laughed, extending her hand to be shaken. He clasped it, shaking it firmly, but not taking his eyes off her face.

"I must confess that when Albus proposed this plan I had my doubts, but looking at you now I can't see how it could fail." He was examining every inch of her countenance with extreme interest, and seemed pleased with what he saw.

"Ever the optimist, Lupin," said a hard voice from the doorway. They turned to see Severus standing there, surveying the scene with his cold, brittle eyes.

"Rather an occasional optimist than a perennial pessimist, Severus," Remus replied, keeping his voice calm. "But even you must admit, the transformation is a success."

"I infinitely preferred her original look. Call me the old-fashioned type, if you will," he sneered. "I just wanted to make sure our guest had settled in and I see she has. If you need me, Professor Dumbledore, I shall be in my office." He whirled around and floated from the room in a mass of black. Maeve watched him go and wondered if he had come to see her expecting her to be alone. The possibility that they still had things to talk about was never far from her mind and she wondered when the opportunity would present itself.

"Charming as ever." Remus grinned at her.

"Yes, isn't he?" She continued to stare at the space where he had been, mentally cursing him for his peevish manner. "So," she said, turning her attention back to Dumbledore, "what is my new name and how do I go about learning my new role?" Now that she was here she was eager to get started, the magical atmosphere at Hogwarts was infusing her blood with excitement.

Dumbledore drew himself up as he imparted the next step in his plan. "Your name will be Selene Lupin. I have a plan for you and Remus to get to know one another more closely, while at the same time you will have the opportunity to learn your new history. I have a cottage arranged for you both in a glen not far from here. I want you both to go and become better acquainted for a few weeks. Look upon it as a working holiday if you like." He watched them both from above his glasses to gauge their reaction.

"And it will be safe?" Maeve asked. She was becoming annoyed with herself at her sudden preoccupation with safety. Considering that just a few hours ago she didn't care if she lived or died, it was unexpectedly important to her that she stayed breathing.

"Perfectly safe. I have employed the same precautions there as I have here at the school, so you will be quite immune to outside attack for the most part." He looked confident about this assertion although Maeve thought 'for the most part' sounded a little inconclusive.

"Well, I am happy with the plan if Remus is." She looked to her new brother, who nodded his assent. Happiness, Maeve decided, was relative. Despite the potential danger, this had to be better than riding the same hills every day and making small talk with an unresponsive father.

"I have the advantage of having seen the cottage and it's perfectly secluded. No one who wasn't already informed of its existence would know it was there. Not even Voldemort, with all his spies and tricks." Satisfied that he had done as much as he could to reassure Maeve, Remus turned to Dumbledore and added hurriedly. "I haven't got long here today and I would like a word with you before I leave."

"Certainly, certainly. And I am sure Maeve would like a little time alone to take in her new surroundings. So, my dear, we shall leave you for now. Your meals will be served in your room until Friday, which I know will be inconvenient and a little lonely for you." He looked very apologetic about this. "But it is for your own safety until you have some time to get your story memorised. I will come to see you later, and I am sure Severus will drop in to keep you company."

She didn't look overly thrilled at that prospect of an afternoon with Severus, or of taking her meals in her room. Having just escaped one prison it sounded like she had wound up in another. Remus, sensing her disappointment, touched her arm lightly.

"It's not long, only two days," he said with a smile. "I'll try and get back late tonight, perhaps to share supper with you and make a start with our story, but I can't stay too long."

Slightly mollified, she gave him a grateful smile and thanked them both. _Really_, she told herself, _what was two more days when she had spent the past seventeen years alone?_

She occupied herself, in what little remained of the morning, unpacking her meagre belongings and hanging her few clothes in the overly spacious wardrobe. They immediately looked lost in such a large space, and Maeve resolved to buy some more clothes at the first opportunity she had. She placed the books on a shelf in her office, pleased that even such a small piece of her had taken up residence. Further exploration of the office revealed little about its previous occupants apart from a fluffy pink cardigan stuffed in the bottom drawer of the desk. With a promise to pass it on to a house-elf in the hope that they could reunite it with its owner, she walked to the window. Ripples of water shimmered across the lake, breaking the sunlight into bright shafts that danced across its surface. A few birds occasionally took flight from the long grass that fringed the water, but apart from that nothing else moved. There wasn't a soul in sight, making her feel she could be completely alone in this rambling building where no one seemed to move and nothing seemed to happen.

Time to assess your situation, she told herself firmly, sitting down in the floating chair. She began spinning herself round until the chair decided it had had enough of this foolishness and came to a dead stop, almost throwing her off. Undoubtedly, she had just escaped probable death at the hands of Voldemort, something that had resulted in her being cosseted by Albus Dumbledore in her old school. This had both good and bad points, but overall Maeve felt it was good. She was starting to grow anxious about her relationship with Severus, which looked like going from bad to worse. The fact she had to form close bonds with someone he loathed could only aggravate the situation. She had abandoned her father in acrimonious circumstances, but she didn't care to start thinking about him so she carefully folded up that memory and stored it away. To examine thirty-nine years of rejection and dislike wouldn't be good for her self-possession at the moment, but no doubt she would return to it, eventually.

A knock on the door interrupted her reverie, so she went and opened it just a little, peering through the small gap with suspicion. She half-expected to see Dumbledore, but it was Severus who stood before her holding a tray containing sandwiches, two bottles of Butterbeer and two glasses. He wore a look of complete detachment on his face.

"I have been ordered to bring you lunch," he explained, nodding at the tray as if in further explanation. She opened the door fully and moved aside to allow him in. "Where would you like it?" he asked.

"Bring it through to the sitting room." She gestured towards the other door.

Severus moved carefully through the office and into the more informal area. From his stiff movements, she sensed he was uncomfortable in this suite of rooms. Placing the tray down on a table by one of the sofas, he made to go.

"Aren't you staying?" she asked. The prospect of him popping in to keep her company at first hadn't been overly attractive, but the thought of a long afternoon alone did wonders for his appeal.

"I hadn't planned to," he said crisply. "I have work to do." His face suggested that the work was mountainous, interesting and infinitely more attractive than spending the afternoon with her. She had always found the amount of expression he could get into his face, while at the same time keeping his eyes static, very impressive.

"And will you not be eating any lunch, or have you already eaten something?" she pressed him.

"No I haven't… but…" he stumbled.

"And there are two glasses there, and more sandwiches than I can eat," she coaxed gently.

"I am sure the house-elves will clear away anything you don't want," he insisted.

"Severus, please stay for a short while?" She looked so alone and tired that he felt compelled to relent, accepting her invitation with the immediate stipulation that he really couldn't stay too long.

He sat opposite her on one of the sofas; his long body perched stiffly with the black folds of his robes crumpling around him. She poured the foaming beer into the two glasses and handed him one. He sipped from it, grimacing at the taste before placing it down on the low table in front of them. Butterbeer would not have been his usual drink of choice. He sat back and waited for her to start a conversation; he didn't usually do small talk, having found from an early age he wasn't very good at it and it was almost always pointless. Maeve's lack of skill at small talk was also apparent, but she did, at least, make a valiant effort.

"Do you enjoy your work here?" she asked, staying on neutral territory that wouldn't involve him taking umbrage. His eyes flicked skywards at the banality of the question, but he did his best to answer her.

"It offers sufficient stimulation," he replied. "Although, it has to be said, some of the students are difficult to teach because of their inherent stupidity and unwillingness to learn anything at all."

"And you live here?" she pressed on, ignoring the comment about the students.

"For the most part, yes. It seems pointless to return to my parents' old house when I have everything I need here."

She frowned at the mention of that crumbling mansion. Her last visit had been memorable for all the wrong reasons. Darkacre had a certain aura that would have made even the most prolific house-seller fail. Severus didn't seem to be too interested in the food, but that didn't deter Maeve, who was by now very hungry. She wondered what had happened to his parents, but felt that now wasn't the time to ask. There was still the feeling of awkwardness between them that she didn't want to push over the edge into hostility.

A silence hung between them for a few minutes until she became uncomfortable under Severus' inflexible stare.

"You think I am agreeing to something stupid don't you?" she challenged, aware that at least part of his discomfort was down to her appearance.

"I don't think the task itself is stupid," he retorted.

"Then you think I am?" she argued. "You think I am incapable of this?"

He frowned and set down his glass before leaning forward in his seat, addressing her slowly, choosing his words with care.

"Maeve, I believe you are more than capable of excelling at any task put before you. What worries me is your recent isolation and your possible naiveté regarding certain people you will come into contact with. I know you are a powerful witch, but it worries me that, like so many others, you may let emotions cloud your otherwise excellent judgement."

He didn't take his eyes off her face as she took stock of his comments. She didn't know how to respond to him, didn't know how to make him understand that often emotions were the driving force behind most human actions.

"Just tell me," he asked as if reading her thoughts. "What got you through your time alone? Was it your emotions or was it your reason?"

She looked at him without an answer to his question, because she still didn't know what had got her through those long days. Had he pressed her, she would have had to admit she had locked her emotions away for most of the time. She found that emotions needed other people to function; otherwise there was little point in having them. But then, she hadn't always used her reason to good effect either. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would have questioned her drawn out stay within the boundaries of her estate.

"I can't answer that, Severus, because I don't know." She was beginning to wish she had let him go now. He was leading her down a conversational route she didn't want to take.

"You must have some idea what helped you through?" he continued. "You must have had some goal?" His eyes glittered darkly as he waited for an answer.

"No, I had no goal, no aim, nothing." She stood up and moved towards the window in an effort to escape those black eyes, but he turned in his seat and she could feel his gaze on her shoulders. Turning back to him she sighed heavily and leaned back on the windowsill. The soft sunlight framed her hair and face, giving her an ethereal look, but when she spoke it was in a very down-to-earth manner.

"Severus, it was a death sentence because there was no hope of anything changing. I had lost every human contact I cared deeply about. I could have changed my appearance, I suppose, but I rather got the impression I couldn't leave the house no matter what I did." She came and sat next to him causing him to move his robes abruptly. "And most of all I missed you; I have missed you since I left Hogwarts."

An indecipherable look crossed his face before he turned his mouth into a taut line, and his face became impassive.

"And why do I need to know this?" he asked coldly.

"Because… well because… because I care for you." She had said it. Maeve had laid a part of herself open to him again and she waited for him to do with the information what he would.

"You cared for me, as you so quaintly put it, Maeve, and then you left. I hardly think we can go back. Do you?" He visibly shrank away from her.

"I didn't leave you," she protested vigorously. "I was made to leave."

"But you still left, Maeve. You left to go home to Ireland and you didn't just do it once, you did it twice." He looked bitter, as well he might "And you never contacted me, not once"

"It wasn't my fault." She knew it sounded inadequate as soon as she said it. She was soon proved right, because this time his eyes blazed with undiluted anger.

"Not your fault," he hissed. "One of the most powerful witches in the country can't find a way past her Squib of a father." He looked at her with distaste.

"It wasn't as simple as that." She tried to look him in the eye but couldn't. "He needed me; he always had a hold on me. He was my only family, Severus. I couldn't abandon him."

"Or go against his wishes and see someone… undesirable." His emphasis was on the last word.

"Doesn't the fact I came back now count for anything?" she asked softly.

"You came back because Dumbledore kindly informed you that you would die if you remained at home. I don't care to flatter myself with the notion that it was anything to do with me."

They were exactly where she hadn't wanted to be, openly antagonistic to each other and there was no way out for either of them. He shook his head dismissively as if shaking away her words physically from his mind. The air crackled with tension between them and he rose, pacing the floor in front of the fireplace with steady fervour. The wizard in the portrait watched with undisguised interest at the scene playing out before him. He couldn't wait to slip out of his portrait to tell Sir Cadogan about the events he was witnessing.

"And your coming here brings us back to this mission of yours," Severus drawled. "Remind me again exactly what it involves. I haven't been privy to the details."

"Once I take on the identity of Selene Lupin, I will be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher here at Hogwarts. I will fulfil those duties until such time when, I suppose, I am no longer needed." Now that she had said it out loud, it suddenly seemed a little silly. Was she playing a game with her life and the lives of others by allowing herself to get involved things that were beyond her capability?

"Needed in what capacity exactly?" he asked.

"As an element of surprise against Voldemort, I suppose." She was just guessing and even as she said it, it sounded foolish. He was planting seeds of doubt in her mind, causing her resolve to falter just a little.

He came and stood very close to her, a note of cold caution in his voice.

"Have you any idea what you are embarking on? For someone who has already barely escaped the Dark Lord once, it strikes me as foolhardy to be setting off on this particular course. Why don't you go back to your father and pretend none of this is happening? We would all be safer." He didn't move an inch as he waited for her to response, his breath shallow and his face a work of stone.

"I am not going back. It is not an option as well you know, unless you wish to see me dead." She returned his steady gaze with open defiance. "I am not going anywhere until I have done what I promised Professor Dumbledore I would do. We are both on the same side, Severus, and I would expect your support." She broke his gaze and walked away to the window. He stood for a moment as if undecided which direction to take, her or the door. Her defeated back won and he found himself standing beside her with his hands on her shoulders turning her to face him. They watched each other warily for a few moments before Severus spoke, and his tone was softer than before.

"I was harsh with you and I am sorry, but you must understand that I was very disappointed when you left. After what we had been through I thought that finally there could be a future for… us."

He paused as the painful memories came back. The sense of abandonment had been profound after the experience they had shared, and he had finally given up on the idea of love. Everyone, in his experience, eventually betrayed him, so there seemed little point in allowing anyone access to his feelings or emotions. He was well aware people thought him a cold and unduly hard man, but there was no justification for him to behave any other way.

"I had spoken with Dumbledore," he continued, "and he made me aware of the pressure you endured from your father. I think we have both been the victims of family ambition. It can be rather stifling being brought up at the heels of a tyrant." He appeared to be devoid of any emotion, but she knew herself that wounds inflicted by your own blood ran deepest of all and were the hardest to forgive.

"I don't need anyone in my life," he said, and although his voice was still warm there was a definite finality in his tone. "I have lived too long on my own, regretting the one occasion I allowed myself to be vulnerable. Of course I still care for you, but that's where it must end."

She raised her head to look into his eyes and saw nothing but emptiness.

"And, of course, with your current assignment, life would have been impossible anyway," he continued, oblivious to her feelings. "While you are tied to Lupin it would be too much of a stretch to imagine you could have any time for me."

"Don't," she said angrily. "Don't you even dare suggest there is anything in this association with Remus that would affect us in any way. Sometimes, Severus, you are the petty-minded, unfeeling idiot that people have you down as."

He looked slightly abashed at this because he knew it was partly true, although he would have quibbled over the use of the word idiot.

"I am glad," she ploughed on, "that I will be going away on Friday, because maybe expecting you to have changed was stupid. Maybe I was in love with a phantom, a figment of my imagination, something I had projected onto you. Something you never were and never will be. Perhaps, Severus, I expected too much from you. I certainly didn't expect you to hold on to childish grudges." She knew she was saying hurtful things and she knew she didn't mean them but she was tired. Her lack of judgement was always one of the first things to go when her mind was strained.

"Perhaps you did expect too much, Maeve," he said sadly.

He swept away from her, his robes billowing out behind him, and she felt an awful sense of longing as he walked away. She was already regretting berating him the way she had and wounding him still further, but it was done. She didn't see what she could do to undo it now.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she said in a small voice. "I was insufferable and you didn't deserve what I said."

"Oh I deserved some of it," he said, half turning back. "I do hold grudges, but only when the crime is serious enough. I think trying to kill me in a childish prank was serious enough, don't you!"

"But who…"

He didn't let her finish but cut across her with three words that he fired out like arrows. "Lupin, Potter, Black!"

"I don't underst…" she began, but he cut her off again mid-sentence.

"Don't ask me, ask them, or at least the one of them who is left." His tone was still bitter. "I don't wish to speak of it."

"Perhaps you were mistaken," she said hopefully, but the look on his face dissuaded her from pursuing that line of thought.

"I have to go," he announced and she was suddenly reluctant to ask him to stay. He almost flew from the room as the door banged shut behind him, leaving her deflated and with the feeling something had been lost that might never be found again. Maeve hated herself for allowing her emotions to come to the surface. She had no idea she would still feel so strongly about him after all this time. She desperately wanted to go for a walk to clear her head, but she knew that would be foolish, and despite his doubts about her ability to function rationally she knew she had to do the right thing and stay put. She moved from room to room for a while, a spirit without a resting place, but eventually fatigue drove her to the bed and she curled up on it without disturbing the covers and fell asleep.


	4. Doubt and Devotion

Chapter Four

Doubts and Devotion

It was just after dusk as Remus wearily climbed the staircase and tapped on Maeve's door. When there was no answer, he hesitated for a minute, wondering if he should just creep away. She would be exhausted after her journey, of that there was no doubt, but he had promised her he would try and visit. He didn't want to go away without her knowing he had kept his promise.

Dumbledore had caught him on the way up to her rooms to warn him, as if a warning were needed, that she would be very tired and quite possibly disturbed by all that had happened in such a short space of time. Not much escaped the headmaster. He was already aware that Severus had paid her a visit during the afternoon, courtesy of Professor McGonagall who had sent up the tray of food. What he did not know was the outcome of the meeting, but he would make it his business to find out. Remus tapped again, a little louder this time, and then slowly opened the door, calling out a soft hello as he did so.

Disturbed by dreams, Maeve was only lightly sleeping, so she heard the click of the latch as the door closed. She was already sitting up in bed when she heard his muted call.

"Through here." She answered his hello with sleep still heavy on her tongue.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," he said apologetically. "But I didn't want you to think I had forgotten about you."

"No, don't worry," she said. "I was just taking a nap."

"You should be doing more than taking a nap." Remus' natural concern for others was apparent from the worried frown that appeared across his forehead.

She got to her feet wearily, wondering if she was really up to talking with him. Conversation suddenly seemed beyond her, because all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. At least in the land of her dreams she could forget about the earlier tension with Severus.

"Why don't you come through to the sitting room? It will be more comfortable for us to talk through there," Remus suggested. She followed him meekly to the other room, where they sat down in front of the blazing fire. Remus poured them both a glass of wine from the bottle that had miraculously appeared, along with two glasses, on the table in front of them. She shook her head as he offered her the glass, knowing it would make her more tired and sluggish than she already was.

"It has been a long time, Maeve," he said softly. "A great deal of water has flowed under our respective bridges since we last met."

"I think there has been a lot more under yours than mine," she remarked, a light laugh in her voice to conceal the fact that she was starting to feel the hurt of her wasted life.

"Possibly," he conceded. "Not all of it good, I'm afraid."

"No, I don't expect it was," she replied ruefully. "But we have the chance to catch up again now."

"Yes, we do indeed. Although, I would have preferred a different set of circumstances."

There was none of the wariness that defined her conversations with Severus; Remus was an altogether easier person to talk to. She hadn't spent much time with him at school, but she remembered him as a likeable boy, if sometimes a little too eager to please.

"So what have you been doing with yourself? Life can't have been easy." She watched his face for signs that he perhaps didn't want to talk about this, but he was apparently willing to be open with her.

"No, it's been very difficult, but you have to make what you can of life, don't you? Without Albus, things would have been much worse. I take work where I can find it. I worked here for a year." He looked sad as he thought back to his brief time as a professor.

"I read about your dismissal in the _Prophet_; I'm sorry about that." She wondered if it would be appropriate to ask him what really happened, but he saved her the trouble by launching straight into an explanation.

"It was wrong of me to come here as a teacher. I was still potentially dangerous; I'm always potentially dangerous." Maeve made no comment about this. By choosing to go with him, she was accepting whatever small danger there might have been. "I could have killed people many times over. On the night I forgot to take my Wolfsbane, I would have killed students. It was completely unforgivable. Severus, of course, was fully vindicated in his dislike and mistrust of me."

"Why _does_ he dislike you so much?" She wondered if she would get any closer to the truth behind Severus' earlier comments regarding the attempt on his life.

Remus sat back and exhaled slowly, his face displaying discomfort.

"It was a long time ago. The protagonist is now dead." He knew she wouldn't be happy with that, but it was worth a try. One thing he hadn't anticipated discussing so soon were the events of the fateful night beneath the Whomping Willow.

"James or Sirius?" she asked, proving him right in his estimation that she would want more.

"Sirius, it was James who saved him. It was I who would have killed him." His head sagged dejectedly.

"Did it happen at the time of a full moon?" she asked, intuition giving her an idea of what had happened.

He nodded mutely, and then looked at her with anguish in his eyes as he remembered that awful night, a night filled with a blackness that had held repercussions for them all. If only Sirius could have seen it at the time.

"I could have killed him because Sirius decided to be even more reckless than was usual." Remus hesitated, as if aware that his statement laid most of the blame at a dead man's door. "It was as much my fault as Sirius' for wanting to fit in and be normal. As if I could ever be normal, running around the school wild once a month," he said in a self-deprecating tone. In one easy move he had shifted the blame back onto his own over-burdened shoulders. "Severus knew something funny was going on at the Shrieking Shack; it was where I went when I was transformed into a werewolf. Sirius thought it would be clever to give him a pointer that he would find something interesting if he used the passage below the Whomping Willow. Of course, had he done that he would have encountered a full-blown werewolf. At the very least, he would have been bitten and spent the rest of his life like me. But in all probability he would have been killed. James stepped in at the last minute and stopped him. Severus knew what Sirius had done to harm him, and what James had consequently done to help him. He couldn't cope with either fact." He took a large drink of wine, as if the alcohol could erase the unhappy memories.

She frowned at him as the information sank in. It explained a great deal regarding Severus' attitude to the trio and his continued dislike of Remus. The room was still, apart from the crackling of the flames and the chink of Remus' glass as he refilled it from the half empty bottle. Maeve was struggling to put her thoughts into words without sounding unduly harsh.

"That's an incredibly awful thing to do to someone," she said finally. "It is hard to believe you could be so cruel."

In her mind, she was picturing the scene. She could well imagine Severus' triumph as he realised he had found a way to discover what they were up to, and then the horror when he realised the trick that had been played. However anyone looked at it, and no matter what Severus had done to them, he didn't deserve what Sirius had done in return.

"Severus hardly endeared himself to people you know. He had a real pure-blood fixation. You, of course, wouldn't have known about that, being pure-blood yourself." Slight resentment crept into his voice. "And, of course, when he found out about the werewolf problem he became insufferable."

She reached forward, deciding she did want a glass of wine after all. Maeve knew all about the prejudice that existed towards wizards of non-pure lineage, knew that Severus had indulged himself occasionally with the odd taunt. She still couldn't accept that Sirius would have gone that far in getting revenge for those with mixed blood in their veins. Something told her there was far more to this than just age-old intolerance. Whether she would ever discover what it was, was an entirely different matter.

"We sometimes find it difficult to see things from other's viewpoints, but surely you can see, after coming close to death, why he resented you." Her hand shook slightly as she raised the glass to her lips.

"Of course I can see that, Maeve, and now here we are and ironically Severus helps me through each month by making the Wolfsbane potion for me. I can't criticise his skill as a Potions master, although I rather think he does it to please Dumbledore than for any benefit it gives to me." Remus gave a huge sigh. "I am also aware of my own failings as much as Severus'. I know I was too easy on them; they did some pretty awful things to him. It turned into a ritual of constant humiliation by the end of the sixth year."

He looked genuinely sad, for Remus had had plenty of time to reflect on the things that had happened at school. She was sorry to see him look so dejected. Unlike Severus, who had an almost impenetrable shield around his feelings, Remus was transparent. Maeve suddenly felt the loss of the years when she had been removed from Hogwarts. Had she stayed, she would have seen this all unfolding and understood better. As it was, she could only guess at the scars the events of the intervening years had left.

"I have no idea how hard things have been for you, Remus. I can't even begin to understand what it is like to lose your three best friends and have to live on the fringes of society." Severus was forgotten now as she turned her attention to the weariness of the man before her. He was clutching his glass tightly, looking at the fire as if he wished he could dive in it and emerge, phoenix-like, from the ashes. "How have you survived?"

Remus took a moment to collect his thoughts before answering. He sensed an understanding growing between them and felt he could be honest with her.

"It's easy, Maeve. You just lock away any hopes or dreams you may have had. You learn to treat other people as you yourself would like to be treated, but you learn to acknowledge that they will rarely reciprocate that courtesy. You learn that people such as Albus Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall are rare indeed, with their endless compassion and understanding. You also learn," and here he smiled, "that sometimes people are surprising. Sometimes people turn out to be not at all what you expected?"

"Oh?"

"Well, you for instance. The pure-blood, ex-girlfriend of a former Death Eater who lives in a huge house in Ireland and who comes from one of the most powerful wizarding families there is over there. Who left Hogwarts because her father didn't consider it was good enough, and who then went to an exclusive school in Ireland. I hardly expected you to be so down to earth, least of all understanding." He hoped she would take the comments in the half-teasing spirit they had been intended.

"Is that what you thought of me?" She looked dejected at this revelation. "That stuff about Hogwarts was just my father's usual bluster. The school I finished my education at was no better than this one."

"I did think you might be a bit…well… standoffish." He looked a little sheepish, which gave her some encouragement.

"Having spent ten years shut away with my awful father, a few servants, not to mention a horse, I hardly think I should waste my time ignoring people, do you? Especially not people with the potential to be as charming as you." She gave him a grin as the mood began to lighten. In just a short while they had established a rapport that boded well for Dumbledore's plan. She was now genuinely looking forward to their so-called working holiday. Maeve had to hand it to Dumbledore; when it came to a good plan he certainly knew how to pull it together. Despite this, the vision of a disgruntled Severus forced its way into her head, but she quickly pushed away the thought that Severus had his doubts.

Remus glanced at the clock, setting his glass purposefully down on the table when he realised the lateness of the hour.

"It's time you were in bed, Maeve. You have had a long day. I only popped by for a short time just to make sure you were all right with all of this. Perhaps I should be getting off now."

"Yes, of course," she agreed, getting up from the sofa. "I had not expected my return to Hogwarts to result in finding such an interesting new friend."

"I am glad you came back," he said simply. "I never really got to know you when we were at school. Our different relationship with Severus kept us distant, I think. Those things don't seem so important now, do they?"

"No, the passage of time changes things, doesn't it?" she agreed. "I just wish it had changed Severus too."

"How do you feel about him now?" he asked cautiously. He remembered an awful lot about their schooldays. Even though he hadn't known her very well, he could still remember the firmness with which Maeve and Severus had stuck together. It was highly unusual to find a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin intent on spending as much of their time together as those two had. But then, it was highly unusual to find a Slytherin associating with anyone outside his or her own house.

"I don't know, Remus." She shook her head. "I really don't know. Part of me feels exactly the same way I did when we were at school. There is something indefinable about certain bonds we make with people. I never really knew why I loved being with him, I just did. I know things have happened to him. I know he has made some difficult, and wrong, decisions. What I don't know is the person behind that wall he has surrounded himself with now. It's as if he has put up an impenetrable shield."

"I know. I have tried to extend the hand of friendship but it's futile. He doesn't want to know," he said. "But maybe I am not the person to befriend him, given our history."

"I'm not sure there is anyone that fits that particular bill." She wanted to change the subject because she didn't want the evening to end on a gloomy note. As they walked across to the door together, she asked him where he would be going after he left her. He was rather vague, mentioning something about returning to London. She would be alone the following day and then on Friday they would travel together to the cottage so she could learn all the details she would need to be convincing in her new identity. This was the part of the adventure she was most looking forward to, a quiet fortnight in the countryside with someone companionable.

"Take care, Remus," she said, as he opened the door to leave. "I have no idea what work you are doing, but I have an inkling it could be dangerous."

"Getting up in the morning is dangerous, if you look at it that way," he said with a smile. "Don't worry about me. I will be back here on Friday to whisk you away."

She reached forward to embrace him; it was impulsive but she suddenly felt the need to touch another human being. He returned her embrace with arms that were unused to such open gestures of affection. For a few precious moments she felt completely at ease in the safe boundaries of his arms. Maeve broke away first, looking into his eyes with gratitude.

"Thank you for coming by, it means a lot to me."

"My pleasure. It's nice to get to know the sister I never really had the chance to be with." He gave her one last squeeze. "I'll see you Friday."

And with that he was gone into the night. Maeve was left alone with just the waning moon and the soft, night wind for company.

Friday morning found the castle's few inhabitants up early. For some this was usual. Severus often rose early to collect plants fresh with the morning dew still on them, an important ingredient in itself. Dumbledore also found himself rising earlier and earlier as he aged, perhaps increasingly aware that time was running short and he should make the most of all that was available. McGonagall also rose early, usually because she had a lot of school things to attend to, but today because she wanted a quick word with the headmaster before he left for London.

"Do you think," asked Professor McGonagall anxiously, "that you are doing the right thing?"

Dumbledore looked over the top of his glasses at her, as if the thought had never occurred to him. He continued to stroke Fawkes tail absentmindedly as he answered her.

"Oh yes, I think so, Minerva. In fact, as well as the idea of having a little secret that Voldemort doesn't know, I also think it will do the pair of them no end of good. They have both spent a long time suffering. I do believe this will give them both the opportunity to" – he paused as if searching for the right words, and then his eyes twinkled as they found them – "live a little."

Minerva McGonagall didn't look at all convinced, despite having the utmost faith in Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps the time spent in a hospital bed at St Mungo's had made her a little more circumspect than she would otherwise have been, or perhaps she just didn't think it was a good idea.

"I can see why you think they would be good company for each other, Albus, but I was also thinking of Professor Snape."

Dumbledore's eyes clouded a little as he thought of his Potions master. The discussion they had had yesterday about Maeve and Remus Lupin had been unsettling. He had seen the jealousy in the younger man's eyes, and some of the hurt too. There was no doubt that Severus was deeply wounded by the past and by Maeve, who had been innocent as far as he could discern, but Severus hadn't quite seen it that way. He knew from the harsh words spoken that Severus still loathed Remus with everything fibre of his being, a loathing made all the worse by the death of both Black and Potter. Instead of the hatred being spread evenly around, it was now directed at one man. Dumbledore trusted Severus with his life, but he knew the man could wound deeply with his words and attitude. He was still very much the boy wanting approval at times and only Dumbledore, and perhaps Maeve, knew how much it had cost him to go against his upbringing and conditioning to turn to the side of good. There would always be a shadow of darkness around Severus Snape, but at least that was now tempered with the will to do good rather than evil.

"I know, Minerva, I know. But he has to learn. He has justifiably been very disconcerted by Maeve's return. There is no doubt in my mind that that young lady loves him very much. He must come to terms with her return and subsequent involvement both with the school and the Order." Dumbledore leaned forward and started to rummage around in his desk drawer.

Minerva had never understood how the fiery young Irish girl had been attracted to the aloof Severus in the first place. It seemed the most unlikely of partnerships, but she had to concede that they had been very good for each other's development. Dumbledore had commented upon their relationship when the Sorting Hat had made the pointed chant the previous year about all the houses standing together. You couldn't get a finer example of a joining of different personalities to make a stronger one. Minerva had also pointed out at the time that Maeve was a pure-blood, and she wasn't so sure Snape would have had much to do with her had she not been, but Dumbledore had dismissed that.

"It could make his difficulties with Remus much worse," she said almost reprovingly. "It could also make Remus' problems a lot harder to deal with. What happens if Severus decides to stop making the Wolfsbane potion out of spite?" Albus' rustling in his drawer was distracting her from her train of thought. "Forgive me, Albus, but what are you doing?"

"Sherbet lemons, I know there are some in here; I just can't locate them." The desk muffled his voice and she pursed her lips at his inattention.

"I have already dealt with the unlikely event that Severus stops making the potion," he said, sitting up abruptly, clutching a small, crumpled white paper bag and wearing a look of triumph on his face. "Whilst they are away, Maeve will be responsible for making and administering Remus' potion. She is more than accomplished in the Potions field. I should imagine she would find it a relatively simple task. If necessary, she can continue when they return."

McGonagall looked sceptical, she was foreseeing all sorts of complications with Severus and none of them were pleasant.

"Perhaps that would also alienate Severus," she reasoned. "I have to register my strongest disapproval at this whole plan. You are also asking her to make Wolfsbane for the first time, and then be alone with him during the transformation. It's so risky."

Dumbledore sighed, smiling indulgently at his assistant. He appreciated that, on the face of it, his plan might seem rashly conceived, but he knew it was the best way of keeping her safe and allowing her to move on. It would also, temporarily, give Remus the family he so desperately craved. He looked at Minerva's steely eyes and accepted her reservations with good grace. She was still tired after the attack at the end of last term; it was affecting her judgement slightly. He was sure she would be her usual alert self by the start of term, but for now she was below par and this worried him slightly.

"Trust me, Minerva, trust me," he said gently. They had both had their share of unhappy experiences recently. Dumbledore knew that he had been proved wrong in hiding so much from Harry, but nonetheless he still had to believe in his own judgement. He must do what both his head and heart believed was right.

McGonagall took one of the sticky yellow sweets he offered her and popped it into her mouth, looking unconvinced by anything he had said. She left him to his musings and made her way back to her own office. Walking along a corridor, she bumped into Argus Filch, who was busily polishing a suit of armour, taking it apart piece by piece and grumbling away to himself as he did so. She was well aware that Argus was disappointed by Umbridge's departure. He was very much of the opinion that the school would revert to pandering to the students, allowing them to get away with everything short of murder. Argus would not have been out of place in one of the old Ministry of Magic sponsored Schools for the Impoverished that had been the only option for some a few hundred years ago. She had studied them during the History of Magical Education correspondence course that she had taken before coming to Hogwarts, and they were dreadful places. She suspected that Argus got most of his ideas for pupil management from those harsh establishments.

He stood up as she approached, dropping the visor, which fell to the floor with a noisy clatter, startling her.

"Professor McGonagall," he said, by way of a greeting.

"Argus," she responded. "You're keeping yourself busy, I see."

"Well, you know, Professor, what a lot there is to do around the school before those little blighters return." His face hardened at the mention of the students. Professor McGonagall frowned at his dislike of the children, before quickly carrying on down the corridor. Filch, in a moment of nastiness, picked up the visor and dropped it again, his mouth twitching into a smile as she missed her step because of the sudden noise.

Mrs Norris, his cat, swirled around his ankles and purred loudly.

"Not herself that one," Filch said to the cat, who looked up at him with bright-green, attentive eyes. "Not herself at all."

As the early morning light filtered through her curtains, Maeve shifted in her bed, opening a sleepy eye to the morning. She still wasn't quite used to waking up in this pleasant room, which, thanks to prompt packing by Liam and a quick trip on Fin Keane's boat, was now filled with her own possessions. She allowed herself to doze for a while before glancing at the clock; it was still only six. Maeve padded across to the window and threw open the curtains to take in the morning. It was a fine one, with sunshine bouncing off all visible surfaces and she knew she had to go for just one short walk before it was time to leave. There would be no one about at this early hour, and she would be very quick. Her mind made up, she slipped into her clothes, allowing herself time to made her bed, a habit she couldn't break despite the presence of house-elves. The pink cardigan that she had left out for the laundry had mysteriously not been taken away and she wondered if there was something magical about it that would make the house-elves not want to touch it. It was now stuffed back in the drawer that she had found it in, to be forgotten about once more.

She slipped from her room quietly, creeping downstairs and out into the courtyard. The sun was climbing steadily in the sky, while the birds where singing at the tops of their voices in direct competition with a strange squawking that could only have belonged to one of Hagrid's creatures. She made her way to the edge of the forest, which looked as forbidding as always but, despite its reputation, she had always loved its comforting gloom. As she explored the unusual flora that grew from the fringes of the trees, she was stopped short by the sight of a black-cloaked figure bending over some plants with a small bag on the floor next to it. She watched for a few minutes as the figure diligently picked a few heads of Coltsfoot before standing up to brush something off the front of its robes. It was then that she recognised the tall form of Severus. She was about to turn quietly away when he spotted her and froze. Neither of them knew what to say as the stillness of the early morning echoed their own inertia. Severus quickly tied up the bag and stalked over to her, clearly annoyed.

"What are you _doing_?" he hissed. "Do you want to be seen?"

"I'm sorry, I wanted to come out for a walk." She did her best to look apologetic. "I didn't think anyone would be around at this time in the morning."

"Are you mad? Hagrid will be up, as will Filch. There are house-elves, not to mention any number of other undesirable presences." He nodded towards the forest.

"Well really, if anyone did see me, they would be seeing Selene Lupin… not the real me."

He winced at the surname and it made him even surlier, if that were possible.

"Yes, well I'm so pleased for you," he said waspishly. "I don't know why Professor Dumbledore didn't just marry you both and have done with it." He glared at her, daring her to respond, but she wasn't going to play this morning.

"Because that would have been entirely wrong and unacceptable, both to Remus and myself," she answered calmly, "and well you know it. Will you walk me back to the school?" she asked, expecting him to snarl a no at her, but to her surprise he nodded. They walked in silence until they were within sight of the main entrance and he stopped her with a hand on her arm that clutched a little too tightly for her liking.

"Whatever happens, _Selene_," he said the name with venom. "I want you to know that for a brief time I was happy sharing my life with you. For the briefest of moments we could have succeeded, but life and others interfered. I know now that that wasn't your fault and I am sorry for both your pain, and mine."

"Thank you, Severus… Time is always uncertain. Things happen over which we have no control and they continue to do so." She wondered why his attitude had suddenly changed, not that she didn't welcome the change.

"I didn't want you to leave thinking I hated you; of course I don't hate you." He scanned her face as if searching for something, perhaps a sign of the person he had loved. All he found was this new incarnation that looked too much like Lupin for his comfort.

"I never believed you hated me, Severus, I did get a distinct impression of dislike though." She knew she was rather heavy on the understatement there.

"I'm sorry." He gave her a look that she couldn't decipher, before becoming businesslike. "I need you to come to my office. There is something I have to show you before you leave. Something for Lupin." Most of the earlier anger was gone from his voice now and he sounded almost exhausted.

"Of course," she said immediately. "Of course I will."

Maeve was relieved to see there was still something of the Severus she had known beneath that hard exterior. She did not know, could not know, the effects of those years in Voldemort's service. She was dreading the day she would have to look at the brand that she knew was etched into his arm. She had thought, many times, of the fact that he must have killed in order to have gained that Dark Mark and it made her stomach feel hollow. Would she ever summon the courage to ask him about it? Somehow Maeve doubted it. For the moment she would take every indication of the Severus she had known as a sign that the people they had been could be again. Nothing was irredeemable; no one was beyond some small redemption.

They walked down to his office in companionable silence. Memories emerged in her head as she began to remember other walks and other silences. They had always managed to maintain a connection that did not need words in order to remain firm. It would not have been unusual for them to walk the circumference of the lake in total silence, only the occasional brush of hand against hand linking them together. As they reached the forbidding black door of his rooms, she was brought back from her daydream. He unlocked it for her, indicating she should enter first with a tight nod of his head.

Maeve had never seen his office before. It was a cavernous place full of jars and pots containing all manner of things, some identifiable, some not. Candles lit the walls, flickering over the heavy books that lined the shelves. Nowhere was there any sign of a Severus that existed separately from his work.

"It's not much." He gestured around him. "But it's an adequate place for research, and for withdrawing from the mediocrity of school life."

"It is exactly how I expected it to be," she said, picking up a book entitled _101 Potions for the Cure of Common Muggle Complaints._ A quick flick through showed magical cures for the common cold, influenza and mumps. She smiled fondly as she thought of her grandmother, who had cured the local village children of all of those things using strange and foul-tasting remedies that she had since learnt how to make herself. The children hated her grandmother because of the awful concoctions they had had forced upon them, but of course the villagers adored her for her knowledge and kindness. A few hundred years ago, she might have been burnt for a witch, although the passion for burning old women had never quite gained the popularity in Ireland as it had in England.

"Useless, of course," Severus said, cutting through her thoughts. "We would never be allowed to officially use them on Muggles. They develop their own strains of these complaints and find they can't cure them." He snorted derisively.

She placed the book back on the desk and perched herself on the edge of it.

"So, what do I need to know for Remus?" she asked, grinning as he moved her from the edge of the desk, directing her towards the chair that sat beside it. "You always hated that didn't you?"

"Hmmm," he said, pretending to ignore her comment. She always sat down in inappropriate places, usually when there was a perfectly good chair available, and it had always irked him. "Well, firstly, you need to know that he can be very dangerous, which is why I think this whole thing is foolhardy." His eyebrows knitted together in frank disapproval.

"I know about the trick they played," she said quietly. "Remus told me. He blames himself for being here."

"Yes, well so he should. I can't imagine what Dumbledore thought he was doing. A school is no place for a werewolf." He flung himself into the chair beside her, his fingers beginning to drum on the arms. "It nearly killed me, and it could have killed others. It may well be in the past, but I cannot and will not forgive those who did it. However, I am more concerned about your welfare now that you are off on this madcap scheme."

"Are you?" she queried.

"What?"

"Concerned about my welfare?"

"Of course," he blustered. "As I would be about any member of the Order shutting themselves away with a werewolf who is prone to forgetting to take his Wolfsbane. Which brings us back to why you are here." He reached behind him and lifted a book from his desk, which he offered to her. "In there is the correct formula for the Wolfsbane, and in that bag," he gestured to a large leather satchel that sat by the door, "are all the raw ingredients to make it."

"Ah, of course. It will have to be made fresh each day," she said, flicking open the book.

"Not necessarily, but it is preferable. You can make it in advance." His scornful look told her all she needed to know about his views on making potions in advance. It wasn't something he had practiced at school and he obviously hadn't changed his mind about the practice since. Severus had always maintained that if he spent hours with a potion, the least he could do was use it as soon as possible.

"My gran knew a potion to prevent the transformation at the full moon," she said absently, as she pored over the book.

"Yes, I am sure she did. It was probably a variation on this, which takes away the madness. Lupin can keep his own mind at the full moon, although he still gets ill beforehand and suffers after-effects… But at least as long as remembers to take it he remains sane." He stressed the word "remembers" with a sneer.

"Yes, but Gran knew how to stop the whole thing. I never quite believed her, but she was adamant she had once helped a werewolf." She shook herself away from the book. "Do you need to go through it with me or do you trust me?"

"I trust you implicitly. After all, it's your neck if you don't do it properly." He gave her a warning grimace.

"You can be so charming, you do know that, don't you?"

"It has been remarked upon," he said and he smiled. It was the first smile she had received from him since her return and it made her glad to see he hadn't forgotten how to do it.

She leapt up and tucked the book into the bag, wondering if there was anything left to say. She quickly decided the shrewd move would be to leave on a good note.

"I had better get going, Severus. It is already half-past seven and I have to meet Professor Dumbledore and Remus at eight. Thank you for this." She touched the bag.

"You are welcome. Or rather that brother of yours is," he said smoothly. "We are all playing our parts so well already." It was costing him a great deal to be a part of this pretence, when all he wanted to do was stop her from placing herself in such danger.

"Yes," she retorted. "So we are."

He moved over to the door as she opened it, placing himself between her and the open space beyond.

"Please take care, Maeve… If you ever need anything you can come to me. Come to me before you go to anyone else. There are things that even Dumbledore doesn't sometimes understand." He looked so insistent that she nodded in response; unable to imagine anything Dumbledore didn't understand. "And if Lupin gets too difficult to handle, I will help you, despite what happened in the past."

"Thank you, I appreciate that, more than you know." She was conscious of his vast presence. It threatened to overpower her and, at that moment, she just wanted to return to their school days when everything had seemed so much simpler. For a horrible, dizzying moment she felt all her resolve abandon her. He took her by the shoulders and balanced her. Looking deep into her, he managed, for a brief moment, to recreate the bond that they had once shared so freely.

"When you told me you cared for me, Maeve, that hurt as much as it healed. Now is not the time for us. There is too much in the way. I don't cast aside your affection easily, you must appreciate that." He was so formal, and yet she could feel their connection, that used to be so relaxed, beginning to be reformed and she knew he was fighting against its return.

Failing to find any words that could adequately explain how she felt, she leant across to kiss him very lightly on the lips before saying a quiet goodbye. Then she was gone, clutching the bag tightly to her chest as she sprinted along the corridor and in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

Severus closed the door behind her, sinking back into his chair with a sigh. As he hunched over he looked a desolate figure as, for the first time in a long time, he felt real, emotional pain. Although he knew she would be back in a few weeks, he felt he had abandoned her to a fate he couldn't predict. And, even worse, he couldn't shake the feeling that, despite her declarations of care, he had just handed her over to another man.


	5. Moony Matters

Chapter Five

Moony Matters

Maeve didn't make it as far as Dumbledore's office. As she climbed the staircase to the second floor, she met both Dumbledore and Remus coming down. They were deep in conversation, but broke off when they heard her hurried steps, both of them smiling as they saw her flushed face.

"Running through the corridors, Lupin! I ought to deduct ten points from Ravenclaw." Remus laughed at her, while Dumbledore couldn't help but smile at the joke. They had been hard at it since five o'clock, discussing the delicate diplomacy needed to deal with the goblin problem. Both of them were only too aware of how important the goblins would be as the war intensified, but it would take nothing short of a diplomatic miracle to bring them conclusively to either side.

"And I think I could come up with a reason for putting you in detention," she parried, her humour quickly restored after her meeting with Severus.

"Are you ready to go, Selene?" Dumbledore asked doubtfully, considering her flustered state. He wanted them to leave as soon as possible so he could depart for London, where he had a meeting at the Ministry. There were a series of trials coming up that had to be arranged as quickly as possible. Azkaban was vulnerable, despite the amount of Aurors and Hit Wizards now guarding it. Dumbledore felt it was only a matter of time before there was a mass breakout or break-in. He also had to organize the recruitment of new Aurors, which would have to be done hurriedly, with the unfortunate consequence that the training wouldn't be as thorough as he would have perhaps liked. The Ministry was in no position to be overly choosy about whom it accepted given the height of the threat they currently faced. They were even discussing lowering the pass rate for the examinations needed to start Auror training in the face of a possible onslaught from Voldemort's regrouped forces.

Maeve reassured him that she was indeed ready to go and that her bag was set to be loaded into the car. Remus had a large leather holdall in his hand that, unlike her immaculate one, was battered and well used. His initials were fading and the handle threatened to detach itself at any moment, sending the contents tumbling to the floor.

"I believe Arthur Weasley has managed to procure you something nice by way of a vehicle," Dumbledore said confidently, although his face betrayed the fact that he had extreme doubts as to the kind of vehicle Arthur Weasley had actually managed to get his hands on. He was only too mindful of the incident with the Ford Anglia a few years previously. "Now then, Remus, if you wouldn't mind giving me a few moments alone with Selene, I would be most grateful. We have some small, last minute details to discuss."

"Of course." Remus turned to Maeve. "Would you like me to collect your bag and meet you at the car?" he asked. She nodded, watching as he gave her one of his gentle smiles before trotting down the stairs and out of sight. Once he was out of earshot, Professor Dumbledore took her by the arm and led her slowly down the corridor.

"You are happy to do this?" he asked, his face becoming grave.

"I wouldn't have agreed had I not been happy," she replied firmly.

"I see you have been to see Professor Snape." He nodded towards the bag that hung from her shoulder. "He has given you adequate instruction?"

Dumbledore's change of subject made her hesitate for a moment.

"Yes, yes he has." She recovered herself quickly. "The full moon is ten days away. I know what to do." Maeve was as confident as she sounded; she had yet to come across a potion that confounded her abilities.

"Your grandmother had a few ideas about werewolves… although she did have ideas about most things," Dumbledore said gently. He had something he wanted to discuss with her, but he was afraid that talking about her grandmother would re-open wounds that were best left closed.

"Yes she did, she was very opinionated and very wise." Maeve met his eyes and the memory of the day her grandmother had died passed between them. He placed a hand on her shoulder, as if this simple gesture could bring her comfort and, strangely, it did.

"I believe she had developed a potion," he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "to help werewolves."

"Yes, she had." Maeve was surprised to be discussing this twice in one morning. "It was an experiment though. She said she had tried it out on one once but it was all very vague." She had no idea why he was bringing this up now and waited for his response, which was slow to come. Eventually he stopped walking and, leaning against a statue of a large lion rampant, he imparted what he knew about her grandmother and the werewolf.

"Between you and me, my dear, that potion worked. I saw it myself. Unfortunately the Ministry refused to authorise its use because it came from an Irish witch who couldn't be regulated by them and, of course, there are no werewolves in Ireland, so it was never used there." His eyes narrowed as he remembered the verbal battles he had had in the offices for Werewolf Registration at the Ministry. Their frank refusal to listen to his arguments or consider the potion put before them had led him to believe they didn't really want to help werewolves; their fear and mistrust ran too deeply.

"I didn't know anyone had corroborated the fact that it worked." She was surprised and not a little pleased that her grandmother was proved right in this instance. "It is such a shame we don't have the formula, I am sure someone at the Ministry could do something with it."

Whilst Dumbledore was unsure the Ministry had changed their attitude since the possible solution was first put before them, he now cared less about what the Ministry authorised and more about what was the right thing to do. He untucked a book from his robe and handed it to her almost reverentially. It was dark green leather with no outer markings, and as she flicked open the heavy vellum pages she was surprised to see her grandmother's handwriting.

"She left all her important books with me for safekeeping, to be returned to you when the time was right. I believe the time is right," Dumbledore announced quietly, his face crinkling with concern as he watched her mouth tremble slightly. She managed to control the emotion and turned the pages until she came to the one headed 'An aide to the effects of Lycanthropy'. She realised, as she read through the potion, what he was suggesting and she was horrified at the prospect of trying this potion on Remus.

"Oh! I could never! Oh no… that wouldn't do at all," she protested vigorously. "I could kill him, and what about the Wolfsbane? Surely there would be a reaction." She was chilled at the thought of trying a relatively untested potion on a human. Throughout all her potion experiments, she had rarely tested them on humans, especially something as dynamic as this, with its potentially deadly ingredients.

"You could do it and, moreover, Remus wants you to try. I believe you could be the person who can turn Remus' life around for him by this one act." His tone became very persuasive as his eyes tried to judge how she could better be cajoled into taking the course of action he wanted her to take. "Irish magic is a closed book to many, which is why I have waited until you were available before I suggested this course of action."

"No. I will not be manipulated like this, Albus." She drew herself up, and Dumbledore was suddenly struck by how powerful she could be. "I will not try an untested potion on someone who is undergoing treatment for his condition. Not on my own, without consultation with anyone else."

Before he had the chance to respond, his attention was caught by a figure hurrying down the corridor towards them and, with a weak smile, he called out a greeting. The figure in question was Professor Trelawney, with her hair flying out in all directions and her wrists jangling from the surfeit of bangles that she wore.

"We weren't expecting you back until the end of August," he said absently, his attention still on Maeve, who had quickly snapped the book closed and placed it in the satchel that Severus had given her.

"I know," she called in a wistful voice, "but the leaves told me I had to return immediately or something disastrous would befall me before the start of term." She made a waving gesture with her hands as if whipping up the air. "The spirits are never wrong."

Professor Trelawney finally reached them in a swirl of mulberry-coloured robes that seemed to carry on moving long after she had stopped. She peered at Maeve through impossibly large glasses, which magnified her eyes so that they looked as large as moons beneath the lenses.

"This is Selene Lupin, Professor. She is joining us as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore informed the new arrival, reluctantly performing the introductions, not wishing to have Maeve questioned before she had perfected her act. "Selene, this is Professor Trelawney, our Divination teacher. Now if you will excuse us Sybill, we really must get going." He caught Maeve's arm and began to steer her past the still-peering professor.

"Wait!" she said sharply to Maeve, who turned to look at her in surprise. Her voice had become deeper and harsher than was usual and when she spoke it was in a husky croak. "Trust only the dark one who brings news of light, for he and he alone knows the truth."

"I don't know what..." Maeve began, but she was interrupted again by the other woman, who appeared unaware she had just been speaking.

"Lupin? Would that be any relation to the lovely Professor Lupin who used to teach here?" She said this in her normal light voice and Maeve glanced at Dumbledore, who answered for her.

"She is indeed Professor Lupin's sister, and he is waiting to take her on a brief holiday before the start of term so if you'll excuse us." Dumbledore showed an indecent amount of haste this time in forcing Maeve along the corridor and away from the eyes of the Divination teacher.

"It was nice to meet you, Professor," Maeve said, smiling back at the confused looking woman.

"Wait!" she said and Dumbledore stopped again, looking at her severely. Her voice dropped once more. "Guard your secret well, Maeve, because there is one who will betray you and it will be a bitter betrayal."

Maeve didn't immediately understand why Dumbledore looked thoughtful; all she heard was the promise of a betrayal. He took her arm even more firmly and piloted her well away from Professor Trelawney, muttering further apologies for dashing off to the bewildered Professor. Once safely out of view Dumbledore stopped her and looked very grave.

"When Sybill speaks with that voice you can be sure it is one of the infrequent occasions when she is truly Seeing. She knew your real identity without being told; don't worry yourself about that, because I doubt she will remember. She rarely remembers her own prophecies. You must heed what she says, my dear, heed it well." Dumbledore was only too aware that the occasional flashes of prophecy that Sybill showed were profound indeed and he registered her words to be mulled over at a later date. What worried him was their frequency. If Sybill's ability to see was becoming more pronounced it must surely have some bearing on the strength of Voldemort.

"But who?" she began. However Dumbledore wouldn't let her finish; he raised a finger to his lips and hushed her.

"There is nothing more to be said. I can't add any more to her prophecy, nor can I explain it to you. I should let it rest in your mind until such time as you need it," he said steadily, before once again resuming their walk to the entrance hall.

"It doesn't sound too promising," she muttered, as she followed him. "A bitter betrayal sounds profoundly depressing."

She was still mulling over the prophecies when they finally reached the main hall, thankfully without further interruption. Remus was standing by the door with both of their bags at his feet. He threw Dumbledore a questioning look, but Dumbledore didn't respond and Remus looked away quickly.

"Now, you have everything you will need?" the headmaster asked, realising that as the time for them to leave neared he was becoming more anxious about their welfare. They nodded eagerly; keen to be going now the time had arrived.

"Very well, the car is waiting at the entrance. Here are the keys." He handed them to Maeve, who felt rather excited at driving a Muggle car again; it had been a long time since she had been behind the wheel, and she was looking forward to it. They walked together to the main entrance hall, Remus carried both his and Maeve's bags whilst she kept a tight hold on the satchel that Severus had given her.

Once they reached daylight, Dumbledore put a hand on both their shoulders.

"Enjoy this time," he said slowly. "It will be a time for relaxation and reflection. I know you will find it easy to assume your new roles, so this is not a concern of mine. If you do suspect that anything about your location is compromised then I want you to return straight away."

"I'm sure we will be fine," Maeve said reassuringly.

"You cannot be too careful, both of you. You are both too important to everyone, including Voldemort, to take risks," Dumbledore said insistently, looking over his glasses in a very serious manner.

"I'll take care of her, Albus, don't worry. I'm not about to take any risks with our personal safety." Remus was confident he could keep them safe from outside influences, but he couldn't help worrying about the forthcoming full moon.

As they moved towards the opened doors, Maeve looked around, half expecting to see the black-robed figure of Severus, but he was nowhere to be seen. She grudgingly accepted the fact he felt too strongly about this whole situation to make a final, farewell gesture.

They stepped out into the light and found a large, comfortable car waiting for them. Maeve grinned with pleasure as she raced around to the driver's side and flung open the door. She knew that allowing them to drive was a concern of Dumbledore's, but she had expressed a desire to travel this way and he had very reluctantly acquiesced. For a selfish moment she had exercised her newfound power of choice, and Albus had found it difficult to refuse her request.

"Come on, Remus! What are you waiting for?" She threw herself into the driver's seat and waited impatiently as Remus put the other bags into the boot before getting into the front seat beside her. Remus had never really taken to cars; they were a form of transport that gave him nightmares, and he hoped Maeve was a good driver, but as they roared away from the front of the castle he knew he was in for a rough ride.

An hour or so later and Remus could honestly say he had never been so mortally afraid in all his life, although Maeve seemed to be perfectly happy as she bounced the car along the rugged roads. Part of the problem, Remus thought, as they shaved the edges off another bush, was that she had no real concept of braking and took sharp corners with scant regard for slowing down, trusting instead to the tyres to keep them sticking to the road. More than once he had felt the overwhelming urge to be sick, and it was only politeness that kept him from wailing in protest. Hedgerows flashed by, perilously close to the windows, and once she had narrowly avoided a collision with a tense-looking fence that had the misfortune to border a particularly twisting stretch of road.

After what seemed like an eternity of driving across a bleak landscape, the road dropped down into a tree-lined valley that was at odds with the surrounding bare countryside. Here grew lush grass and full, blooming hedges containing all manner of wildlife. Trees overhung the road, dangling green fronds before their car as if in welcome, and from somewhere came the sound of running water. Eventually the road shrank from grey tarmac to little more than a rough, gravely lane, which came to an end at a five-barred gate. The gate swung open as they approached, and Maeve dropped into a low gear to negotiate the potholes and stones of the uneven track that led up to the cottage.

"Thank Merlin!" Remus exclaimed, as she stopped the car in front of the grey building. He almost fell out of the vehicle in his attempt to put some distance between himself and the metal monster. Standing by the cottage's green door, he clutched at its frame as if life as he knew it was about to end. "Never again!"

"Ah, it wasn't so bad," she said cheerfully as she got out of her side. "I thought it was rather fun."

"Fun!" he gasped incredulously "Fun?"

"Well, I'm glad Dumbledore sent us by car. Actually, I don't even own a broomstick." She admitted this almost proudly, never having come to terms with the cold involved when travelling by broom at altitude.

"I'll buy you one for Christmas," he said weakly. "And I'll give you lessons… I am never travelling anywhere by car again… at least not with you at the wheel."

She feigned indignation as she marched past him and unlocked the front door, pushing it open to reveal a high hallway with a staircase that twisted up to the first floor. She stepped across the threshold and into the coolness of the interior. A stone-floored kitchen lay to one side of the hall whilst to the other was the sitting room, which was large and comfortable. The wooden staircase led to the upper floor that contained two pleasant bedrooms and an immaculate bathroom.

It didn't take her long to find her bearings in the kitchen, as she put on the kettle and started to rummage around for tea-making things. The fridge and larder had been well stocked for their visit and there was a pile of wood for the fire in the lounge. It wasn't quite the turf of home, but it would be nice, when the temperature dropped late in the evenings, to light a fire.

Remus had brought in their bags and taken them upstairs, feeling a little uncomfortable now he was actually here. Maeve called him down for a cup of tea and when they were both sitting at the table she couldn't help but notice his glum face.

"What's the matter?" she queried. "Don't you like the cottage?" Maeve also couldn't help the feeling that perhaps he had realised that he would be spending two weeks with someone he didn't know very well and was suddenly regretting his eagerness to agree to this plan.

"The cottage is great," he admitted, "but I still can't help feeling that I am taking a holiday at the expense of the Order. I am not sure I should be having fun when the rest are still out there and in some danger." He was frowning as he looked beyond her and through the window.

"But that's what this is about," she stated. He looked at her, his frown deepening.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I think we could have achieved the intended aim of this trip in a few days back at Hogwarts. Dumbledore knows the strain you have been under and he probably felt you needed a holiday. By doing it this way, he kills several birds with one stone." She sat back and observed this idea take root in his mind.

"But I don't need a holiday!" he said, almost angrily.

"Yes, you do, Remus," she insisted, leaning across the table and touching his hand gently. "Albus has told me everything that happened over the past few months, and you really do need some time away. You have been through more than most, not least the death of your best friend."

A cloud passed across his face and she knew she had shifted the mood in the wrong direction. Quickly she crossed to the larder, pulled out a bottle of wine and rattled in the drawer for a corkscrew. Remus got up from the table, left his tea untouched, and walked out of the kitchen. She followed him a few minutes later clutching glasses and the now open wine bottle. He was slumped on the comfortable-looking sofa with his head in his hands. He had taken off his robe and thrown it to the floor and sat there in a badly darned shirt that made him look even more dejected than he clearly was. The glasses clinked as she set the down on the table and he looked up bleakly.

"I think you should go back," he said quietly. "This isn't going to be fun for you. I'd be better alone."

He hadn't had time to grieve over the events of early summer because he had made sure he hadn't had the time, throwing himself into whatever Dumbledore had suggested as a way of fending off the moment when he would have to deal with it all. Now he knew why he was here. Dumbledore wanted him to grieve and he had sent along Maeve to keep an eye on him.

"Oh, I don't think I can go anywhere." She poured wine into both the glasses and handed one to him with a wry smile on her face. "Dumbledore would disown me and I do want to help you."

"Help me?" he asked in confusion.

She flopped down on the sofa beside him and took a sip from her glass. With her head on one side, she looked at his lined face and tired eyes.

"What you need is what the Muggles call tender loving care." She moved her hand across his forehead, brushing his hair back gently. "Has anyone ever taken care of you, Remus?"

"My parents did… and Sirius… James…" he trailed off.

"No, I mean really looked after you, looked after your health as well as your entertainment. You have spent so long looking after yourself and others you have forgotten what it is like to be cared for." She watched him carefully as he wallowed for a second or two in self-absorption before he reverted to himself and immediately expressed his concern for her.

"I don't think I am alone in that though, am I? You have hardly been the contented soul yourself of late." He looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and consternation. "What a pair of hopeless cases we are."

"Well, we may as well be hopeless together," she said conspiratorially. "Who better than your beloved older sister to take care of you?"

"Older?" he raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Who said anything about older?"

"Well, one of us has to be and it may as well be me." She sat back, satisfied that the moment of melancholy had passed. There would be time enough for grief and emotion during the forthcoming fortnight, but just for today she felt the atmosphere needed to be light and happy.

"Well, you do look older, I suppose," he said slyly, ducking as a she playfully flung a cushion at him. After a few minutes of pounding cushions and much giggling they fell back on the sofa breathless. She glanced at the clock and saw it was not even midday yet. Flushed from the sudden cushion fight and the effects of the wine, she swept her hair back from her face. Remus looked much more relaxed as he settled back and flung his feet up onto the coffee table. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and wondered if he had the ability to grieve. Perhaps he was one of those people who just couldn't give in to negative emotion for fear it would overwhelm them. He had certainly shifted from morose introspection to carefree playfulness with amazing speed. She slapped his legs away from the table and leapt up energetically.

"Come on then," she announced loudly. "If you think you're spending your time loafing around with your feet up, drinking wine at an unreasonably early hour, and hitting me about the head with cushions then you are sorely mistaken."

He groaned as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to a standing position with an enthusiastic grin on her face. He looked half amused and half bewildered as she hauled him towards the door, grabbing the keys on the way.

"We are going to explore for a bit before lunch," she explained. "Then after lunch we can explore even more, and when we are done exploring we can get down to work."

"Sounds good to me, if a little energetic," he cautioned, but her enthusiasm was infectious and by the time they were out in the open air he found he was looking forward to the prospect with relish.

The days passed quickly in sunshine and laughter and the occasional tear. They grew closer, and as Maeve explored what was supposed to be their shared history she felt a bond growing between herself and Remus that even she wouldn't have thought possible. It was as if in the physical transformation was extending to become an emotional one. They sensed each other's moods and thoughts intuitively and found each other easy company. She knew when to question him about the past and when to leave well alone, and he in turn was able to induce her to talk about her father and her time alone in her grand house. She learnt a great deal about the Order of the Phoenix and its members, and more about the work he did, which was for the most part tedious but which also involved a constant degree of danger.

One of the most interesting conversations they had was about Harry Potter, and the person Remus described was completely different from the one Severus talked about. Remus clearly had great affection for the boy, and his face frequently displayed discomfort when he told her about Harry's aunt and uncle, his trials at school and the amount of distrust and dislike he had frequently endured from others. She was aware that Remus' perception was coloured by his love and respect for James Potter, but even so, she began to get the feeling that Harry was someone she would like. He told her about Harry's relationship with Sirius and how Sirius had sometimes seen Harry as a second chance to have James in his life, which Remus had tried to caution him about. Maeve built up a picture of Sirius Black that wasn't far removed from the boy she remembered from school. That young boy had been forever frozen by his years at Azkaban and was still the same hothead when he escaped. How pointless his life seemed in the face of everything else that was going on, the ultimate waste of a wizarding life.

The impending full moon was a constant shadow over their time together though. She knew in both her heart and mind that she would be safe and Remus would not forget to take the potion, which she had started to make for him on the Wednesday of the first week there. Even so, it was an inconvenience they could well have done without and there was always the faint possibility that something could go wrong. And then there was Dumbledore's suggestion that she make her grandmother's potion.

As she took a walk in the garden late one evening, she took the book with her and pored over it by the light of her wand. No matter how she looked at the problem, she still felt it was too dangerous to attempt and despite assurances that Remus was willing to go ahead with it, she really didn't think he had thought it through. She glanced towards the waxing moon and smiled ruefully, whispering admonitions to her grandmother for leaving her this cumbersome legacy. There was only one person she would have trusted to help her with the problem, but he wasn't here and no doubt would have had nothing to do with it anyway. There was no glory in helping werewolves, and so Severus would probably have passed up the opportunity.

On the evening of the full moon they ate a late dinner before sharing a bottle of wine in the sitting room with the Wizarding Wireless on quietly in the background. The late evening sun blazed orange through the window, yellowing the walls and bringing a golden glow to the room.

"I think it's time I went to my room," Remus said, uncurling himself from the chair. Maeve watched him cross to the door with questions still on her lips.

"Will you need anything?" she asked.

"No. You may hear a few howls but please ignore them, it's just a part of the transformation." He opened the door and hesitated.

"And in the morning?" She made the question deliberately open.

"I'll be tired, but it won't last long. I'll emerge when the effects have passed. Don't worry, Maeve, I'm used to this."

You may be, she thought, but I'm not. She fervently hoped she could resist the urge to go in and see him. He closed the door with a firm click, leaving her to the final rays of the sun and its golden silence. She nodded off on the sofa and was woken in the early hours of the morning by the first howl; it ripped through the cottage, shattering the peace. She sat up, her heart thudding, and tried to balance her thoughts, but before she could the next howl tore through her. She sat in abject misery for the next twenty minutes as the howls and moans came at frequent intervals; it was continuing for longer than she had imagined it would and it was heartbreaking.

Her thoughts returned to the green book in the satchel and the potion that she had left unused. She knew had she heard these howls before she heard about the potion she would have made it without hesitation. She should have listened to what Dumbledore had told her, but then she thought back to what Severus had said. He had warned her there were things even Dumbledore did not understand. And then as a particularly loud howl rent the air her head cleared. Severus, she should call on Severus; he would help her through this. She quickly opened the window and gave a low hoot. Almost instantly an owl flew in and perched upon the sofa, watching her with an inscrutable look in its eye. Hurriedly she scribbled a note on a piece of paper and tied it to the owl's leg.

"For Professor Snape at Hogwarts. As quickly as you can." She watched as the owl flapped its wings and it was out of the window in a flash, beating its way to the school. She opened the front door to watch its progress but it was already gone; there was nothing moving over the trees. She was about to turn and go back into the cottage when the faintest disturbance in the sky caught her eye. A bat was moving swiftly towards her, but then she blinked and realised it was further away than she had first thought. It wasn't a bat at all but someone on a broomstick. Her throat constricted with sudden fear and she was about to go back inside, but she looked more carefully at the swooping figure. It couldn't be…could it? Swirling above her for a few moments, the figure slowly dropped to the ground and landed a few feet from where she stood.

"How did you get the owl so quickly?" she asked, bemused but grateful to see him.

"Owl? What owl?" Severus looked even more bemused than she did.

"I sent you an owl, just a few moments ago."

"Did you really? Well, I am afraid I have missed your missive, which I am sure is a shame." He smirked slightly.

"What are you doing here then?"

"I came," and here he gave a huge exasperated sigh, "because, unlike the rest of the world, I don't think it's a very good idea to leave you alone with a werewolf, sane or not."

As he said this, yet another howl came from the cottage and he raised his eyebrow. "And it seems I was right," he concluded.

"I wanted your advice on a potion," she said. Despite his frosty manner, she was pleased to see him; she would have been pleased to see anyone just for the company.

"Tonight?" He looked incredulous. "You wanted to ask me tonight? Could it not have waited until the morning at least?"

"No… I mean yes, I suppose so." She looked embarrassed now, aware that in some way she had failed the test.

"Well, at the very least you could invite me in," he prompted, nodding towards the open door. Without giving her the chance to issue any such invitation, he strode across the gravel and into the cottage. She followed him slowly and with a heavy sensation in her chest, as she anticipated the lecture that was sure to come.

"Cosy," he said as he looked around the lounge, "although not quite my style." He flicked at the chintz curtains with distaste.

Another howl came from above and he withdrew his wand with a scowl, swirling it above his head he said, "_Silencio!_" in a very firm voice and suddenly all sound ceased. "I'm surprised that didn't occur to you," he said, looking at her accusingly. "It would have saved you hearing all that nonsense"

"I didn't want to do that," she said sullenly. "He might have needed me."

"Sit down and stop deluding yourself, I'll get you something to drink… have you any Firewhisky?" he asked, changing the subject.

"No."

He looked thoroughly infuriated now and stood frowning at her.

"Had fun?" he asked

"Yes, we have actually, it's been great fun."

He watched her for a few minutes wondering how she had expected to get through this night alone. She looked tired, as if the effort of making Lupin's life happy had cost her some of her own happiness…or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Did he want her to be happy here with another man, was it mere jealousy that made him so acerbic?

"So why did you really come, Severus? I can't believe you came all the way down here on a whim." She looked at his harsh face. "Why do I deserve special treatment?"

"I was worried about you," he said simply. "Am I not allowed to worry about you now?"

"I'm sorry, today has been stressful."

"Well, what did you expect, Maeve? REALLY, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?" His voice rose alarmingly. "I WARNED YOU NOT TO COME HERE!"

She flinched, stung by his sudden anger.

"Please, Severus, I just wanted your company tonight, not your condemnation. I have had a good time with Remus." She stressed the word good and watched him respond with a grimace. "He is a gentle, kind man who has had a hard life. You know he wasn't to blame for what nearly happened to you… you know that." She shook her head, annoyed that they were returning to old ground.

"I do… but it doesn't stop me being angry. I get irritated when I see people take stupid risks and put themselves in danger for honour… or valour, or whatever it is you justify your actions with. Upstairs is a dangerous beast who could kill you or condemn you to a life of hell and you stand there saying you have had FUN!" His voice now had a hysterical edge to it.

"Severus, it has been fun. I have enjoyed his company immensely. This is just one night. You can't just write someone off because of one facet of their lives…life isn't all or nothing, you know."

But Severus didn't know. He had always seen things in black and white and as far as he was concerned this was a very black situation indeed.

"I don't want to go anywhere," she said, getting up from the sofa.

"Well, I think you should. I think you should leave here right now," he insisted.

Neither of them had noticed the shadow that crouched in the doorway and was listening to their conversation with interest.

"Severus, I am not coming back with you tonight. I made a promise to Dumbledore, and to Remus, and I will keep my promise. I will take care of Remus and bring him home at the end of this week." Her face was hardening now to match Severus'.

"Albus would understand if you felt you couldn't see it through. I am sure you have enough material now to work your little scheme back at the school," he said disdainfully.

"I don't WANT to leave." She was losing patience with him now. "I WANT to stay here with Remus and help him through the next few days and I WANT to drive him home on Sunday. I WANT to do it because I care for him greatly… Do you understand that Severus… can you understand that?"

"DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT CARE!" His voice rose again and he made a very sudden move towards her, as if to grab her arms and forcibly take her from the house, but he didn't get the chance. A huge brown body suddenly hurled itself into the room and threw itself between Severus and Maeve, baring its huge fangs at Severus, who immediately reached for his wand.

"NO!" Maeve yelled, simultaneously grabbing her wand and shouting, "_Expelliarmus!_" causing Severus' wand to fly from his hand. She knew he would have killed Remus there and then if she had not intervened, and despite Severus' horrified look she took hold of the wolf by the neck and gently pulled him back away from him.

"Just go, Severus, please just go," she pleaded desperately.

"ARE-YOU-MAD!" he shouted, his eyes almost popping out of his head. "You want to stay with this - this creature?" he spat.

"It's Remus. It's not a creature. It's Remus!" She cried forlornly.

"Now I know you are mad." He retrieved his wand from behind the sofa and backed towards the door. "Did you mean to choose tonight?"

"What?" she asked.

"Did you mean to choose between him and me tonight? Was that what the summons was about?" His black eyes were blazing.

"Severus, this was never about a CHOICE! Why do you have to make everything one thing or the other? I will never choose between two people I love. It's not possible, but right now you have put me in an impossible situation so please go back and leave us alone. There will be a time for this but not now, please?" Her eyes begged him to let it go and he finally seemed to understand.

"I wouldn't be leaving if I didn't think you were perfectly safe. I am well aware he knows what he is doing… but even so, he nearly got himself killed. I don't know what you are thinking, Maeve. Perhaps I never did." And with that he reeled from the cottage, slamming the door behind him.

She sank to the floor by the huge wolf that looked at her through questioning brown eyes. Burying her face in his fur she began to cry. She cried huge gulping sobs that wouldn't stop once they had started and she felt that all the grief of the past seventeen years was pouring out of her and it covered everything, tainting the very air with her sorrow.

Remus could do nothing but wait until her tears had subsided. He watched her as she stood up and gently stroked his coat before leaving the room with her head bowed and vulture-like defeat circling round her. What she had done that night had been courageous. Had it not been for her, he would have been dead, courtesy of Severus Snape's wand. He had been rash putting himself between the two of them, but he had genuinely believed Severus was going to hurt her, or at the very least force her back to Hogwarts. He curled by the door and, tucking his snout between his front paws, he slept off the effects of the moon, wondering as he slipped into unconsciousness just how this event would manifest itself in Severus' behaviour when they next met.


	6. Wizards About Town

Chapter Six

Wizards About Town

The trip down to London had been uneventful. As the train pulled them through mile after mile of varying countryside, they chatted about the things that flashed past the window, read the paper together, ate a delicious lunch in the dining car and finally, contented, Remus nodded off to sleep. Maeve watched him as the train rumbled on through more industrialised areas; his head lolled to one side and he looked refreshingly peaceful. She was aware that their time together was coming to an end and the excitement she felt at meeting all his friends was tinged with sadness at the future they may face. She had enjoyed their closeness. Never having had a sibling of her own, she realised now what she had missed out on. Remus had spoken little about his own dead sister and she had not pressed him for information beyond what she needed to know.

They had avoided discussing Severus' behaviour and the events of the night of the full moon. Neither of them had seen the man himself when they had arrived back at Hogwarts so awkward scenes had been avoided. Dumbledore had been absent on their return, but he had left instructions with Professor McGonagall, and so here they were on the train from Hogsmeade. They were heading for London to meet up with the Order at Grimmauld Place, a place that Maeve was greatly looking forward to seeing. Any nerves she might have had at being the focus of the attention of so many strangers was soothed by the rhythmic movement of the train.

She was almost lulled into sleep herself when their carriage door was abruptly pulled open and a tall man in blood-red robes stood there smiling down at her. He cut quite a dash with his long, dark hair, arresting brown eyes and chiselled face. His whole aura exuded a certain theatrical presence, as he stood framed by the doorway with his hands on his hips and a stance that was clearly well practiced at dramatic entrances.

"Hello, hello," he announced in a low drawl. "Forgive the intrusion, but all the other carriages are disagreeably full. Yours is the only one that suggests a place to contentedly while away this tedious journey. May I join you?"

She was almost rendered speechless by his spectacular appearance. He certainly dazzled her into forgetting that at this hour the train was most likely half empty and he couldn't have had a problem finding a seat.

"Roderick Rampton," he said, not waiting for an answer and sliding into the seat beside her, sticking his hand out to be shaken, "at your service."

"Selene," she said, a mixture of awe and amusement on her face. "Selene Lupin."

He took her hand and instead of shaking it, brushed the back of it lightly with his lips before letting it fall back into her lap.

"Lovely name, unusual in these parts, although I dare say it is common enough elsewhere. Is the gentleman with you?" Roderick tossed his head in the direction of the still-sleeping Remus, his hair disturbed attractively by the movement.

"Yes he is," she replied, trying desperately to stop smiling, humour having beaten awe into submission.

Roderick looked crestfallen, and she thought he was about to get up to search for another carriage.

"He's my brother," she confessed, and was instantly rewarded by a beaming smile that revealed unnaturally white teeth.

"Your brother! Well, isn't that excellent? And quite right too, an eye-catching lady like yourself shouldn't be travelling alone." The good humour was back and he eased himself into the seat again, prepared to make himself at home. "So what are you heading to London for? Shopping? Parties? A little night out at the theatre perhaps? I hear there is a rather splendid performance of Bats on at The Wizarding Playhouse."

"Shopping," she replied, deciding to humour him. "And perhaps just a little partying." Partying had been the last thing on her mind, but she suddenly felt the desire for a good night of dancing and laughter.

"Well, my darling, you have come to the right place for partying. I am hosting a bash down at the Mirrored Mansion on the fifteenth and I would just love to see your delectable face there." His charm control was turned up to maximum.

"I don't even know where, or what, the Mirrored Mansion is," she laughed.

"Not a problem, just give me your address and I can have a broom sent to collect you," his said slickly.

"I'm not sure where I'm staying at the moment," she replied. Advertising the address of the headquarters of a secret order to a complete stranger on a train probably wasn't a good move, even Maeve understood that. "Perhaps you have a card?"

"That I do." He rustled around in his robes and pulled out a thin piece of parchment. "They are so last year I'm afraid, but they contain all the relevant information. Printers are so hard to find for small jobs these days."

She took the card from him and read it quickly.

_**Roderick Rampton**_

_**Wizard about Town**_

**_Partly Organiser and Entertainer_**

"There's a spelling mistake," she said to him and he immediately snatched the card from her hand with consternation written all over his face.

"Impossible!" he exclaimed.

He scanned the card quickly and looked relieved when he found it to be perfect.

"Nothing wrong there," he announced, looking puzzled.

"Surely that should be party," she insisted, taking the card back and pointing to the word partly.

"Not at all, darling," he grinned. "I am partly organiser and partly entertainer, a perfect combination of the two." His hazel eyes dropped from her face to her neck and they widened slightly.

"That's a fine piece," he said, reaching out to touch the orb that rested at her neck, but her hand shot out quickly and grabbed his wrist before he could reach it.

"I'd rather you didn't touch it," she said firmly.

He withdrew his arm briskly, immediately apologising for his impertinence, but he continued to admire the golden pendant throughout the journey.

When they emerged on the southern side of Birmingham, she felt she knew everything there was to know about Roderick Rampton as he regaled her with tales of his adventures and the parties he had organised. He name-dropped shamelessly. It was clear he was quite something in London and she was sure, had the glamour and glitz of the celebrity wizarding world impressed her, she would have been star-struck by him. As it was, she found him an amusing travelling companion who made the miles pass a little more swiftly than they otherwise might have done.

It was almost four in the afternoon by the time the train approached King's Cross station, the open countryside replaced by houses, factories and the general bustle of a big city. Remus was still sleeping, and even Roderick had allowed his head to loll forward onto his chest. She didn't think the crumpled face look was one he would have intentionally cultivated, and the thin trickle of saliva creeping down his chin was most unattractive. The train jolted suddenly as it crossed the tracks, startling Remus from his dreams. He looked around quickly and frowned when he saw Roderick's sleeping figure.

"Who is that?" he whispered, leaning across to Maeve who mouthed the answer back to him. Remus took a closer look at the sleeping man who was now snoring gently. "Don't know him," he said, standing up and reaching for their luggage, "but he looks a little extravagant."

"Extravagant isn't the word," she replied quietly. "I have his card though; he's an entertainer of sorts."

"Won't that be handy?" Remus said with a grin as he ushered her towards the door. "Don't you want to say goodbye?"

She shook her head, quickly following him from the carriage with one last look at her erstwhile travelling companion. An attractive man, certainly, but not one she would necessarily have chosen for company.

Once they had left the train, it was just a short walk to their destination, but even so, Maeve was glad they didn't have too much luggage; the late afternoon heat was oppressive and she was thankful she didn't have to lug heavy cases with her. The streets of London were teeming with people on all manner of errands: shopping, sightseeing, returning from work or hurrying to appointments. It was overwhelming for someone who hadn't been around crowds of people for many years, and she felt the crush of humanity all around her. Remus sensed her discomfort and hurried her along with a friendly smile and the promise it wasn't far. The pushing and shoving of the crowds plagued her, so she was relieved when they turned off the main thoroughfare into a small, run down square. There was a broken sign that had Grimmauld Place printed on it in black letters, but someone had blacked out the auld part to leave the label Grimm Place, and she found she couldn't disagree. The relative quiet of Grimmauld Place was soothing after the previously crowded streets though, depressing as it was.

"This place has seen better days, hasn't it?" she said, looking around her at the shabby houses and the litter scattered everywhere. There was a patch of grass in the middle of the square that children obviously played on because there was a makeshift football net at one end and at the other an abandoned go-kart that was missing a wheel. The houses themselves were painted in varying shades of grimy cream, and almost all of them had rotting window frames and rubbish strewn in their front gardens. There wasn't a soul around, the only sounds were that of a baby screaming in some far off room and a dog yapping to be let in to one of the houses.

"It suits us like this," Remus said as he stopped and looked at a connecting wall between number eleven and number thirteen. "There aren't too many people around, and those who are don't think too much about the odd, strangely dressed person wandering around."

Maeve watched as a tatty, black door appeared in the wall, swiftly followed by smeared and grimy windows, a short path, and steps that led up to the door. The level of magic needed to keep this place secret from the local Muggles impressed her. She climbed swiftly up the crumbling steps to the door, staying behind Remus, and watched as he drew his wand and rapped the peeling black paint gently. She couldn't see how anyone could have heard such a slight noise inside the house and was about to ask Remus why he didn't just use the doorbell, when the sound of several bolts being shot reached her ears. A chain rattled, something clicked and the door slowly swung open to reveal a dark and dingy hallway. He pushed her slowly into the cavernous hall with a warning to be quiet and then, with a quick look around outside, he softly closed the door behind them.

As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she took in the dank atmosphere and the dead feeling in the house; it wasn't pleasant. A woman dressed in a strange assortment of robes and hand knitted clothing was standing before them looking very excited at their arrival. She gave Remus a huge hug that made him grimace in pain as something sharp dug into him.

"Sorry," the woman whispered. "So sorry, Remus… it's my wand." She looked mortified for a moment as she stepped away from him, and he rubbed at his side distractedly.

"Don't worry about it, Molly," he assured her in a low voice. "This is Selene, but let's go through to the drawing room where we can talk properly."

"Yes, yes," she agreed, "of course we should. Hello, dear, how are you?" the woman said hurriedly to Maeve, who nodded a response, unsure why they were whispering.

He led both women up the stairs and into a long, spacious room with horrid green wallpaper that was partly obliterated by several large tapestries, most of which were moth-eaten and faded. Once the introductions were made in a level of voice that they could all hear, they sat down on chairs that groaned and gave off clouds of pale green dust at the sudden weight.

"Why were we whispering?" Maeve asked, curious at the secrecy.

"Oh, it's that awful portrait," Molly said with a frown. "It's Sirius' mother, vile woman. If you wake her, she screams endless obscenities at anyone who happens to be in the area."

"Especially if you happen to not be of pure-blood," Remus added. "So expect some abuse." He winked mischievously at her, knowing full well it would be a rare thing for her to be abused as a Mudblood. He wondered how Maeve would deal with any prejudice that came her way now she no longer had the protection of her pure-blood status.

"You must be tired and hungry. I've made some dinner for you both and I think Arthur, that's my husband, may be joining us later. Ron is here with Harry; they are both upstairs watching the Quidditch on the Ludusvitrum, but I am sure when it is finished they will want to meet you," Molly said, addressing Maeve. "I must say, they are both very excited at meeting this sister of Remus' that none of us knew anything about. He kept you quite the secret."

Maeve flushed a little and managed to mutter something about working abroad. She hadn't realised it would be so hard to lie to nice, well meaning people. Remus rescued her by asking Molly how Harry was, to which Molly replied that he was as well as could be expected and really needed to get back to school to take his mind off things.

"Of course, it doesn't help being here," she said, waving her hands around the room. "It all reminds him so much of Sirius."

"It's only been six weeks," Remus reminded her, "he just needs time and his friends."

"But he doesn't talk about it, Remus." She turned to Maeve for support. "He needs to talk about it with someone."

"He will when he is ready. These things do take time," Maeve said, thinking back to those dreadful weeks and months after her own mother had died. She hadn't wanted to talk to anyone then either, and it had helped her to pretend it hadn't happened. She had passed through several stages of grief, each one more painful than the last, until one morning she had woken and the sharp edge of her grief didn't hurt quite so much. After that, each day had been somehow easier and by the time she arrived at Hogwarts she had found herself able to talk about it without bursting into floods of tears. Of course, she couldn't tell Molly this, so she gave her a reassuring look instead.

They heard running footsteps in the corridor outside that came to a halt outside the door, which swung open to reveal a red-haired boy who was breathless with excitement.

"Oh, Mum," he shouted, gasping for breath. "It was fantastic!"

"Ron, dear, whatever is the matter?" Molly stood up, alarmed.

"We won!" he announced in triumph. "The Chudley Cannons won the League Cup. It was the best match I've ever seen! Kenneth Krackle pulled of an amazing Double-Eight Loop. They've just collected the Cup; it was bloody brilliant. The commentator said they may have to think about changing their motto back to 'We shall conquer'. I never did like the 'cross our fingers' one… it was bloody humiliating… and then…"

But whatever he was about to say was cut off by Mrs Weasley, who coughed very loudly and very pointedly at him before nodding her head in the direction of the other two occupants of the room.

"We have a visitor, Ronald," she said sternly, "who I am sure doesn't want to hear about the exploits of the Chudley Cannons."

"Oh, I don't mind," Maeve said, giving Ron a wink. "It all sounds very exciting. It isn't every day your team wins a Cup."

Ron's face went pink and he spluttered something about having forgotten something in his room, but his mother propelled him towards Maeve who stood up.

"This is my youngest son, Ronald," Molly said proudly to Maeve as she picked at some fluff on Ron's sleeve. He squirmed with embarrassment under her scrutiny and protested that he wasn't a child any more.

"Hello, Ronald." Maeve shook his reluctant hand as he went ever so slightly pinker. She introduced herself as Selene while Ron managed to mutter a hello and an instruction to call him Ron.

"Well, Ron, are you looking forward to returning to school?" Remus asked.

"Yes, I suppose," he said. "Can't say I'm looking forward to the extra work though… but the Quidditch should be good!"

"You play as well as watch?" Maeve asked.

"Yes, I'm the Gryffindor Keeper. Started playing for them this year actually," he said proudly, "and we won the Quidditch Cup. It was fantastic." He was grinning happily at the memory of that particular victory which had turned him from a hopeless liability into a hero.

"Well done," she said, wondering where Harry was.

"Anyway, I have to go and help Harry tidy our room, he's a bit… you know." He pulled a hopeless face that suggested Harry wasn't just a 'bit' anything.

"What's the matter with him?" Molly asked sharply. "Is he talking to you yet about- well, you know?"

"No, Mum," Ron answered with the resignation of someone who had been asked the same question many times. "And to be honest I am fine with that. When he wants to talk about it, he can talk to Hermione. She is far better at that sort of stuff than I am."

His mother gave a sigh, picking at the sleeve of her jumper in an agitated manner. She couldn't understand why Harry hadn't confided in someone, anyone, just to get it off his chest and she was completely unconvinced by everyone's reassurances that he would when he was ready.

At that moment the doorbell rang and she shot out of the room with a worried cry as a strange screeching sound came from the hallway.

"Mrs Black?" Maeve asked, and Remus nodded in dismay.

"She's become even worse since Sirius died and it's affecting Harry in a bad way. For the first few days after he fell, she went very quiet, but we couldn't decide if that was Kreacher's disappearance or Sirius's death. Then she started up again, only this time she took particular pleasure in taunting Harry about Sirius, and you can imagine the effect is it having." Remus stood up slowly and went after Molly, with Maeve and Ron bringing up the rear.

"Who is Kreacher?" Maeve asked Ron quietly, as they followed the others. He made a disgusted face at her.

"He was the Black's house-elf, nasty piece of work too. He disappeared just after Sirius died and we haven't seen him since. Hermione was very sympathetic to him, but then she does have a thing about house-elves. If I were you I wouldn't get her started on the subject, not unless you want a few hours of pointless ear-bashing."

"And why don't they just take down the portrait?"

"It's got a permanent sticking charm on it and no one has been able to figure out how to get rid of it. Fred and George tried, they're usually pretty good at stuff like that, but even they failed."

Maeve didn't have time to ask who Fred and George were because they had reached the hallway, where Remus and Molly were struggling to close a pair of moth-eaten curtains over the incensed, wicked-looking face of an old woman who was screaming obscenities at them. A white-faced witch was standing at the now closed front door looking apologetic and trying to help, but Remus gently moved her aside.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, almost in admiration, "the old bag's really going for it this time."

"Filthy scum! Trespassing dirty fools! Get away from me, you vile half-breed!" This last comment was directed at Remus. "Where is that disgusting boy that that blood traitor son of mine liked? Has he gone yet? Is he dead too? You should all be dead!" Her eyes were bulging with hate and she flailed her arms around wildly, as if trying to get hold of the curtains to prevent them from being closed.

With all the screaming no one had heard Harry's quiet arrival behind them on the stairs. He stood watching the scene play out below him as Remus and Molly continued to struggle with the curtains, which were behaving as if they too were charmed and would not close. The portrait continued to scream insults about Sirius and Harry, much to the consternation of everyone, and Maeve sensed rather than heard the presence behind her. She turned to look directly into the distressed, green eyes of a boy who wasn't much shorter than she was. His tousled dark hair and face took her straight back to school and James Potter. He pushed past her with balled fists and blazing eyes to stand before the portrait, which immediately became even more excited.

"SHUT UP!" he yelled at the screeching woman. "STOP YOUR STUPID, EVIL LIES!"

"Harry, dear, don't," said Mrs Weasley in an even more distressed state than she had been. "It's not worth upsetting yourself."

"Go back upstairs, Harry," Remus shouted, struggling to make himself heard above the screaming of the portrait. "You know she only does it to upset you."

"I can't stand this," Harry said desperately to Remus. "I can't stand being in the same place as that." He looked with disgust at the sallow-faced woman, who was still raining insults down on his head. Maeve quickly moved down the last few stairs and pointed her wand at the portrait, which looked at her first with alarm and then with scorn.

"Another bit of filthy scum!" She leered out from her frame. "And what do you think you can do with that bit of twig!" She began to cackle wildly.

"_Silencio!_" Maeve said calmly, and the woman, with a look of horror, was suddenly silent, although her mouth kept moving animatedly.

"Crikey!" said the witch in the doorway. "We've all tried that on her and it never worked before."

"Call it beginners luck," Maeve said with a shrug. She didn't feel the need to add that all her exposure to banshees over the years had made her adept at blocking out the keening and cursing of old hags. The silencing charm wasn't adequate enough on its own in these situations; you had to muster a steely look in your eyes that would brook no argument.

Now that Mrs Black was silenced the curtains seemed to give up the fight, so Remus was able to pull them together easily, with some relief. He turned gratefully to Maeve, who was looking aghast at the whole episode.

"There has to be a way to undo that sticking charm," she said quietly. "She is enough to drive anyone mad."

"The magic is too strong. We've been trying for a year," said Molly with bitter resignation on her face.

"Not to mention trying to stick those curtains closed. It's me that keeps waking her up too… sorry, we haven't been introduced." The young witch with rather alarming orange hair stuck out her hand. "Tonks is the name, pleased to meet you."

"Selene, and it's nice to meet you too." Maeve couldn't help but think that the colour orange didn't really suit the pale face and dark eyes that peered out at her, but she didn't think she ought to say anything.

"Harry, why don't you go into the kitchen? Dinner is nearly ready and I could do with some help." Molly smiled encouragingly, but Harry was still too angry and upset to agree to the suggestion.

"I'm not hungry," he said moodily. "I just want to be left alone."

Ron looked like he was about to say something but kept his mouth shut, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Harry stomped off up the stairs; Molly urged Ron to go after him, but Ron shook his head. He had grown used to these moody outbursts now and was having nothing to do with it. Harry didn't want company; he wanted to be left alone, so Ron was only too happy to oblige.

They all moved from the hall into the kitchen, which was alive with the clatter of pots and pans, and a delicious smell of cooking that emanated from the large stove in the corner.

"Smells good, Mrs W," Tonks said appreciatively, to which Molly made an 'it's nothing' gesture before whipping out her wand to get the dishes cleaned in the sink.

"Molly's cooking always smells good," said Remus, sticking a finger in one of the pots that was bubbling away on the hob. He pulled it back out again and licked the gloopy brown liquid off his finger. "And it tastes even better."

"Oh, yuck, Remus. That is so unhygienic," Tonks said, slapping at his hand. He grinned, reaching for a cloth to wipe off the remainder.

"Will Harry be all right?" Maeve asked, she had suddenly become less interested in eating and more concerned about the boy she hadn't officially met yet. He was clearly not coping very well.

"He'll get over it," Ron answered her. "He wants to talk and then he doesn't. It's hard to know where you are with him."

"Would it help if I tried to speak to him? He might be able to speak to someone he doesn't know more easily than someone he does." They all looked at her doubtfully. Everyone that knew Harry well, knew that getting him to confide in people, especially strangers, was next to impossible. But no one wanted to be the one to disabuse Maeve of her optimism and so kept quiet.

"You should eat before you do anything else," Molly insisted, as Tonks waved her wand around, marshalling the place mats and cutlery into position. "Harry will still be there after we have eaten and perhaps you can try then."

She reluctantly agreed, after receiving a nod from Remus, who had been hoping Harry would have been a bit better by now. He had collected him from the Dursleys just before he had left for the holiday with Maeve and although Harry had been undoubtedly pleased to see him, he had still been very withdrawn, almost anxious. He did agree with Molly that being back at school would probably help. It would give him something to concentrate his mind on, but it would also bring with it other problems, not least of which was Severus Snape. A plate of sausages and mash broke into his thoughts as it drifted down from the air, setting itself on the table before him with a clatter.

As similar plates of food began to arrive in front of Tonks and Maeve, the door opened and a tall, balding man entered, closely followed by a young teenage girl, who smiled at the assembled company.

"Arthur!" Molly beamed at her husband; lately she had taken to thanking Merlin every time he walked safely through the door on an evening. "You are late. I've been worried about you, and where have you been, Ginny?"

"I had a late crisis," Arthur said, planting a kiss on his wife's cheek affectionately. "One of those Aerie-Flames had been bewitched and was circling very low over Tower Bridge, alarming the Muggles no end, it was. No idea who did it, but we can't rule anything out," he ended darkly.

"Aerie-Flames?" Molly asked.

"Yes, yes… you know… those things they use to fly in. Tin boxes with wings and wheels," he replied impatiently.

"I think you mean aeroplanes, Mr Weasley," Maeve grinned. "I've flown in those a few times. They are quite efficient, if a little slow."

"Have you really?" Arthur asked eagerly. "What's it like? I have heard that your ears pop off your head and you have to suck a special sweet to bring them back again."

"Something like that," she laughed, "only not quite as exciting."

"Fascinating," he said and was about to ask her more questions when his daughter interrupted him.

"Ermm, Dad, don't you think you should do some introductions?" She glanced at Maeve pointedly.

"Oh, yes, of course," her father said, and then paused as he realised he didn't have the foggiest idea who Maeve was.

"Selene Lupin," she said, to save his embarrassment, "Remus' sister."

"You are! Yes, of course you are. Good holiday?" he asked.

"Yes, very good thanks, very relaxing."

"And the car went well?"

"Very well," she reassured him. "Like a dream."

Remus made a strangled sort of noise as he remembered the car journey to and from the cottage. He bit the end off a sausage with something close to malice.

"I'm Ginny, the youngest Weasley. They saved the best 'til last," his daughter broke in, interrupting the flow of conversation. Ron snorted into his mash and Molly patted her daughter's head affectionately.

Maeve sat amidst the noise and chatter and ate her meal. She occasionally chipped in when the conversation turned to something she was informed about, but for the most part it consisted of light banter between Tonks and Remus, and of Ron teasing his younger sister mercilessly. Arthur ate quickly and was the first to leave the table, saying he had paperwork to do for the Ministry that would take him quite some time. Tonks pushed her plate away and asked Remus if he would mind helping her with a problem she had with a spell, so they disappeared in the direction of the drawing room. This left Maeve feeling a bit abandoned and even Molly turned down her offer of help with the clearing of the table.

"No dear, you go and relax," she insisted. "It doesn't take two minutes with a bit of nifty wand work."

She left the table to Ginny and Ron who were busy casting mild hexes on each other, much to their mother's disapproval. Grimmauld Place offered some protection against the regulation that prohibited underage wizards performing magic outside school, but Molly was always conscious that they should be seen to be obeying the law.

Pausing in the corridor, Maeve listened to the sounds of the house around her and she smiled. Abbeylara had never sounded like this. Loud bangs were coming from the drawing room as, presumably, Tonks practised her spells. The wireless was playing softly in the room next to the kitchen and a light could be seen filtering through the crack at the bottom of the door. She could picture Arthur scratching away with his quill as he wrote a report about Aerie-Flames. A loud screech came from the kitchen, swiftly followed by Mrs Weasley's raised voice telling Ron off for turning Ginny into an orang-utan.

She stood by the bottom of the stairs looking at the closed curtains that covered Mrs Black; immediately her thoughts turned to Harry and his lonely, self-imposed isolation. There were no windows in that part of the house and it was lit only with one guttering gas lamp by the door, so most of the hallway was in darkness. She flicked her wand and followed its light up the stairs to the first floor. A quick walk down the corridors soon revealed this wasn't the floor where Harry had his room and so she climbed to the second floor where she was immediately rewarded with light spilling from a half open door. The house was silent now. No sound travelled this far up from the lower floors; a visitor could be forgiven for thinking he or she was completely alone. Hesitating outside the door for a moment she thought she heard a sniffle and wondered if he would appreciate her company or not. She reasoned with herself that if it were her, she would probably welcome a friendly face so she rapped the door gently with her knuckles.

"What?" came the surly response. She pushed the door open a little more and popped her head round it. He was lying on his back, on the unmade bed, staring obstinately at the ceiling and refusing to look in her direction. The room itself was a large one that contained two beds, an enormous wardrobe and walls that were plastered in orange posters featuring the grinning faces of the Chudley Canons Quidditch team. The men in the pictures were all laughing and cheering, Butterbeer splashing from the trophy they now held high above their shoulders, and she guessed they had just heard the score from the league cup.

"You okay?" she asked as casually as she could.

"Fine," he said quickly, without looking at her.

"You don't appear to be."

"Well, I am. Perfectly fine, thank you." He glanced her way briefly; a faint flicker of something crossed his face.

"So you won't mind if I stay and chat for a bit. Everyone else is busy." She perched herself on the edge of the bed, letting the silence sit in the air for a few minutes. His studious avoidance of her eyes meant she had the time to examine him at close range. He certainly bore a striking resemblance to his father, but there was something else there too, something that she couldn't quite place. Eventually he could stand her silent presence no longer and sat up abruptly, ruffling his hair as he did so in a move that reminded her even more of James.

"Your father used to do that," she said and as soon as she said it she realised she had made a mistake.

"You knew my father?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes, sort of," she said, trying to play down the connection. "He visited us a few times with Remus, during the holidays."

Harry looked a little disappointed and she felt again the discomfort of deception. She wanted to tell him she had been at school with his father but more importantly she wanted to tell him his mother had been her best friend. It was impossible of course; she would just have to continue with the pretence.

"You're Remus' sister then?" he asked, curiosity creeping into his voice.

"Yes, I am," she said with a smile, hoping he would reciprocate, and he did in a half-hearted fashion. "I will also be teaching your Defence Against the Dark Arts classes this year."

"Really?" he asked, the memory of last year's teacher still raw with hatred and injustice.

"I understand it is one of your better subjects. Remus mentioned you had quite an aptitude for it." She leant against the bedstead and swung her knees up onto the bed. If Harry was discomfited by this strange adult making herself at home on his bed, he didn't show it.

"Yeah well, what with one thing and another I've had plenty of practice. Facing Voldemort tends to bring out the best in you." His face was hard and yet just under the surface she could see the pain and the fear that lurked beneath.

"I know," she said, drawing her knees up to her chin and resting her head on them.

"How could you know what it's like to face Voldemort?" he asked angrily, tired of people saying they knew how it felt when, clearly, they did not.

"I know," she repeated and without questioning her or wishing to know how she knew he believed her. "I know a lot of things Harry, but please don't ask me how I know, because I can't tell you."

"I'm used to not being told things so it doesn't make much difference." There was a slightly petulant note in his voice, which caused her to feel a mixture of impatience and pity. Remus had told her exactly what had happened last year so she knew Harry bore a heavy weight on his shoulders. It couldn't be easy for him, living with the knowledge that his future was in some way decided for him. It must be hard enough being singled out, but being singled out for all the wrong reasons was even worse.

"I am sure things were done with the best intentions," she said. "It's just that sometimes we can't see the reasons and sometimes we kick back when we shouldn't." Maeve paused, realising she would have to offer up her own knowledge of the events of last July before Harry would open up further to her.

"Remus told me what happened at the Department of Mysteries," she said gently. "I know that you, and your friends, experienced something far beyond your years."

"It was beyond anyone's bloody years," Harry remarked, his voice bitter and dry.

"I realise that, Harry. I also realise that you might think that you are, in some way, to blame for what happened there."

"I killed Sirius," he said bleakly. She was surprised by his willingness to make a sudden reference to his dead godfather and for a moment didn't know how to respond. "And Snape helped me."

"Oh, Harry," she sighed. "You didn't kill Sirius. A series of unfortunate events brought about his death. He wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"How do you know what he would want?" he asked dully.

"Because if I died I wouldn't want people to blame themselves for my death. I would want them to get on with their lives. Have you spoken with anyone about what you are feeling?"

He looked at her scornfully, as if this was the most ridiculous suggestion he had ever heard.

"Who can I speak to? Mrs Weasley is well meaning, but sometimes it's too much, and Ron says the wrong things. Remus hasn't been here, and even if he had I think he would be as upset as I am." He looked at her helplessly.

"Sometimes things are lost that are never grieved over, Harry. Don't let Sirius be one of those things. If you need to talk to, or at, someone you can always have my ear to bend." She watched as he took in this information, hoping that he would take her advice. He gave a slight smile and nodded grudgingly.

"Thanks, Professor Lupin," he said in a small voice.

"Call me Selene," she said, relief evident on her face. "And it's a two way thing, you know. I want all the inside information on Hogwarts. I need good pointers on the other students I'll be teaching… need to know who to crack the whip with."

He grinned then, an action that made his face light up. She felt a physical jolt in her stomach as she realised he didn't look like James at all; when he smiled he was the spitting image of Lily. She was beginning to think she might have to tell him the truth sooner rather than later. It was as if by lying to him she was betraying herself. She couldn't explain the feeling, but it was beginning to gnaw at her brain.

"Why don't you come down and have a bite to eat?" she offered, standing up and holding out her hand to pull him up.

"Only if you protect me from Mrs Weasley and her bone-crushing hugs!"

"It's a deal," she laughed, and they went down to join the others.


	7. The Truth Will Out

Chapter Seven

The Truth Will Out

There was no doubt about it, Harry's presence was having a profound affect on Maeve, and it manifested itself in different ways. One minute she felt overwhelmingly maternal towards him, and the next she felt like the stern counsellor who had his best interests at heart. But by far the worst, and most unsettling, was the horrible, compulsive desire to protect him. She put these feelings down to the fact that she had known his mother well and that this was just a reflection of that childhood friendship. There was no other reason for her to feel this way, yet something still nagged at her subconscious. It was in situations like this that she wished her grandmother were still alive to consult, but she wasn't, so Maeve was completely alone with no sound guidance. And for all her unexplained, instinctive closeness to Harry. she also felt a little detached - as if she were viewing him from a distance, with an objectiveness that only someone with a certain lack of involvement could possess.

He was an alert boy with a loyalty to those around him that was touching. He had a desire to be loved in the same way that Remus had, and Maeve knew it came from a lack of sustained affection. She knew he now had plenty of love around him, but there must still be a longing for his lost parents and for Sirius. From the occasional comment he made, she was sure he hadn't entirely given up on seeing any of them again, even if it was in the next life.

Molly Weasley was delighted at the change in Harry; he went from being sullen and withdrawn to becoming, if not exactly his old self, then at least a more relaxed presence about the place. In fact if it were not for the late night comings and goings of various Order members, the atmosphere at Grimmauld Place would have been almost pleasant. Those nocturnal visits were a sombre reminder of the state of the wizarding world. A disquieting expectancy had descended over everything, which Molly kept referring to as the calm before the storm. They were on tenterhooks waiting for the first attack and no one had any idea where, or when, it would come.

Maeve had only a few more days in London before she planned to take the train back up to Hogwarts. She had some shopping to do so announced her intentions to spend the day in Diagon Alley. Harry didn't need asking twice and immediately jumped at the opportunity to leave the gloomy house for the delights of the best shopping experience in England. Remus looked a little worried at the thought of them going alone so he arranged for himself and Tonks to accompany them. Maeve had protested that it was an unnecessary measure, but Remus had insisted, with a stern reminder that Voldemort would have liked to have both herself and Harry in his devious sights.

"But he wouldn't know who I am," she argued. "And he wouldn't try anything in a busy place filled with wizards and witches, would he? He's not stupid."

"We don't know for certain he doesn't know who you are, and I'm not sure Voldemort could resist the temptation to attack Harry, even if it was in the presence of half the wizarding world." His look of concern was so great that she had backed down and so, on a warm, late-August morning, they set off from Grimmauld Place to walk the short distance to the Leaky Cauldron.

When they arrived it was exactly as she remembered it, dark and dingy with the sort of clientele that would give most Muggles nightmares for years. Tom, the barman, was busily wiping glasses with a cloth that looked as if it were putting more dirt on them than it was taking off. He gave them a gruff hello before offering them drinks.

"No, thank you, Tom, it's a bit early in the day for us," Tonks said, grinning. "We're off shopping."

The barman nodded, peering round at Harry.

"Morning, Mr Potter," he said to Harry, who muttered a hello in return. "Morning, Professor Lupin, and I don't know the young lady." He looked questioningly at Maeve.

"This is my sister, Selene," Remus said. Maeve realised she was getting heartily fed up with being introduced to people, having her hand shook and people exclaiming that they never knew Remus had a sister. It was tedious and she had a full appreciation for the annoyance Harry felt when people constantly stared at his scar. Tom didn't shake her hand though; he merely bobbed his head in her direction with a leering grin before shuffling off to the other end of the bar, where a dark, greasy-looking wizard was waving an empty glass at him.

"Come on then, you lot. Let's hit the shops. I got paid last Friday and I have my eye on a great new device for detecting people with the Imperious Curse on them," Tonks said eagerly, leading the way to the courtyard at the rear of the building. She knocked over two pints of beer and a coat stand on the way, apologising cheerily to the sodden drinkers that she left in her wake.

Maeve could feel her excitement building as they reached the yard where the younger witch began counting under her breath before tapping a brick in the wall. As the wall rearranged itself to provide an archway to the hustle and bustle that was Diagon Alley, she mentally planned the places she would have to visit. Gringotts Wizarding Bank would have to be the first stop before she could even think about shopping. When she had left school her father had managed to get her a job at the Irish Ministry dealing with the control and licensing of potions, which had paid quite well. She had had all her wages transferred into an account at Gringotts because she found that the allowance her father gave her more than paid for her day-to-day expenses. This account had been one her mother had set up for her when she had been just a baby, and she knew it was where all the money her mother had left her in her will had ended up. She had no idea how much was in there, but she had always known she was fairly well off. It made her feel vaguely ashamed that all this money had been languishing in a vault when she really should have been using it for a good cause. Dumbledore had made arrangements using a contact within the bank to allow her access to her vault in her current incarnation. As Selene, it was quite plausible that her job abroad had paid her well enough to afford a few nice things in life, and so no one would be surprised when she left Gringotts with a little money in her purse.

After they had stopped at Gringotts, where Remus had remained outside mumbling something about having enough money on him, they headed for Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour. Maeve took great pleasure in treating everyone to an ice cream, which was served by a welcoming Florean himself. As they polished of the ices they discussed the day ahead. Harry had already bought his new schoolbooks and the other things he needed for school so he wasn't too bothered about where they went. It was Maeve and Tonks who took the lead, making a beeline for Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. They spent a very happy half hour trying on various different robes, whilst Remus and Harry sat by the door on tiny, ornate gold chairs nodding their heads feebly at every robe the two witches tried on. Maeve finally settled on two plain, dark green robes for school and a more glamorous, emerald-coloured velvet dress robe that she fell in love with instantly. Tonks didn't buy anything; she had just come for the fun of trying on different outfits. Madam Malkin tutted at her as she left the shop, but Tonks merely grinned back at her and the others.

"Never really been one for clothes myself, now hair… that's much more my style," she said, running her hand through orange-coloured spikes. Maeve glanced at Tonks, still unsure of that colour. Tonks seemed to read her thoughts because she suddenly looked doubtful.

"Is it me?" she asked, peering round Maeve at her reflection in the shop window. "I have been wondering if it made me look a bit ill, a bit green around the cheeks." She tugged at the spikes.

"Well now you mention it…" Maeve began tactfully.

"I knew it!" she said with a sigh. Wrinkling her face up, the others watched as her hair went from vivid orange to a livid lilac colour. Maeve wasn't sure it was really an improvement, but she was surprised to find herself in the presence of another Metamorphmagus. She couldn't help thinking it must come in immensely handy for her work as an Auror.

"What do you think, Remus?" Tonks turned to him and grinned. He looked a bit uneasy and coughed something about it being lovely whatever colour it was, at which Tonks went pink and looked very pleased with herself.

Unless Maeve was very much mistaken there was a glint in Tonks' eye that hinted at something bordering on infatuation, and it wasn't the first time Maeve had seen her taking an extra interest in Remus. She smiled to herself and hoped the feeling was reciprocated. From what she had seen of Tonks, she was exactly the down to earth, open sort that would do a lot for Remus.

Maeve paid a visit to several shops to stock up on things for school and the lessons she would be teaching. She also dropped in to Stitch-a-Spell, a wonderful tiny shop that sold magical threads and materials. She had been eyeing up Remus' robes and decided that though he made a valiant effort to darn them, he wasn't that good with a needle and thread, so she would attempt to prise them off him to repair them. Tonks also insisted they have a look in Everard's Essential Equipment, which stocked a wide variety of magical devices, ranging from wizard toys for the young toddler to helpful gadgets for the ageing and infirm. This was were she had heard about the sensor for catching people under the influence of the Imperius Curse. Though she knew the Ministry took a dim view of what they described as 'amateur aids to detection', they didn't prevent their Aurors using them.

Tonks approached the counter, where a spotty young man sat slouched on a stool with a copy of _Magnificent Magical Machines_ magazine in his hands.

"G'day," he said chirpily, "and what can I do for you fine looking witches and wizards?" He glanced at Remus, giving him a quick look that suggested he wasn't included in this description.

"I'm after" – and here Tonks lowered her voice – "that gadget that detects the Imperius Curse."

"Ahh." He gave her a knowing smile and a brief wink. "That's specialised stuff, that is. Only highly trained wizards can get it to work."

"And you think I'm not?" she said indignantly.

"Now, now, Miss… did I say that? I just need you to be aware that if it doesn't work then it may not be the device's fault." And with that universal get-out clause he disappeared from view beneath the vast expanse of cluttered counter. He was gone so long they were beginning to think he had left the shop, but eventually he popped back up again with a small black box in his hand and a sheepish grin on his face.

"Sorry I took so long, ladies and gents, but our stockroom is a bit full and it took some finding." He handed the box to Tonks who took it quickly and flipped open the lid. Inside, nestled on a cushion of deep blue velvet, was a small circular object that looked rather like a compass. It had a gold rim with a mother of pearl face and two tiny golden hands that were slowly circling round in a very relaxed manner. At each of the four points where North, South, East and West would normally be there were words written in tiny script, they had to peer closely at the face to decipher what they said. The Northerly point said 'Safely Sane', the Eastern was 'Mildly Manipulated', the Southern a worrying 'Immensely Influenced' and the West a devastating 'Completely Controlled'. Tonks removed it from the box and flipped it over. Engraved on the back were the words 'The Inimitable Imperius Indicator brought to you by Mirus Machina'.

"Perfect!" she exclaimed. "I'll take it."

"But you don't even know how much it costs," Remus said with concern.

"If you have to ask the price," the young man said with a smirk, "then you really can't afford it."

Maeve watched as Remus withdrew to the other end of the shop, a look of consternation crossing her face. She was aware that money was a constant worry for him, so to be reminded in that way by an unthinking slip of a boy was hard. Tonks, meanwhile, pulled out a pouch and after a whispered conversation began counting Galleons out onto the counter. Once the little box was safely tucked into her pocket, they all filed from the shop and ploughed straight into Quality Quidditch Supplies so that Harry could have a look round his favourite shop in Diagon Alley. Maeve never could understand the appeal of flinging yourself around at several hundred feet on a broomstick while trying to catch an elusive golden ball with wings, although looking around her at the multitude of different brooms and equipment she had to accept that a large group of people did find it incredibly interesting and exciting. She spotted a small leather money pouch with a broomstick and a Golden Snitch tooled onto the leather and, with Harry safely ensconced at the other side of the shop, she quickly paid for it and slipped it into her robes. It would make a nice leaving present for him when she caught the train on Friday.

The last visit of the day was to Flourish and Blotts, and they all went in separate directions as they browsed the shelves. Maeve was happily immersed in the Potions section when she heard raised voices from the other side of the shop.

"At least my dad's not in prison!"

That was Harry's voice. She quickly pushed the book she had been flicking through back onto the shelf and headed in the direction of the beginnings of a quarrel.

"No, but then your dad's dead, isn't he? All because he felt the need to protect his ungrateful little whelp." This was a voice she didn't know, hard and brittle with a savage undertone that belied a vengeful personality.

"And you think your dad would do that for you, do you?" She could hear the anger in Harry's voice, and as she rounded the high shelves, she found him facing a tall, blond-haired boy. They both had their wands drawn and were waggling them dangerously in the air.

"Harry, what's going on?" she asked calmly, taking in the fact that the other boy had a sneer on his face that would make a leprechaun cry.

"Nothing," he said, his lips stiff with tension.

"Oh, Potter's just upset because my father has more guts and intelligence than his father had. My father is able to recognise the winning side." There was a sickening smirk on the boy's face now and she frowned at him.

"My dad WAS on the right side, Malfoy, and deep down you know it," Harry retorted hotly

"Yeah, the right side if you want to die whining for mercy like a coward." Their wands were still in the air and she felt Harry move his hand as if preparing to use his.

"Don't, Harry." She caught hold of his arm and he felt a bolt of heat shoot across up to his shoulder. "He's not worth it."

"I'm worth a hundred of him, with his disgusting friends and ridiculous scar. Hopefully next time Voldemort will finish him off properly."

"What's your name?" Maeve snapped at the blond boy, with more than a hint of venom in her voice.

"Malfoy," he sneered, "Draco Malfoy. What's yours?" There was a challenge in his words, daring her to take him on.

At that moment, Remus and Tonks arrived, looking slightly breathless and full of concern.

"What are you up to now, Draco?" Remus asked in a tired voice. "Not causing trouble again are we?"

Harry was still glaring at the other boy but he had put his wand away so Draco let his arm fall in response, sensing perhaps that he was now seriously outnumbered.

"I'm not the trouble-causer around here," he said. "That's Potter's speciality."

"I'm going," Harry said suddenly. "He's really not worth the effort."

And with that he turned around and walked away followed by Tonks and Remus, who gave a last glance at Malfoy before beckoning Maeve to follow them. She hesitated, looking at the sharp-faced boy in front of her, but before she could say anything else a tall, well-groomed woman appeared from behind her.

"Draco, there you are," she said snappishly before realising her son and Maeve had been in conversation. "And who are you?" she asked in a haughty voice.

"Selene Lupin." She held out her hand, but the other woman looked at her in disgust while her son snorted derisively.

"Is there a problem?" Maeve asked, her gaze holding the other woman's without blinking.

"What does she want with you, Draco?" His mother turned and peered down her nose at her son, who shrugged his shoulders and made to walk away.

"Leave my son alone," the woman said coldly to Maeve. "We don't want any half-bloods pestering our family. You're related to that half-breed werewolf, aren't you? It's in your eyes… filthy creature."

Maeve's eyes looked back equally coldly, and with undisguised contempt, she stepped closer to her antagonist.

"Far better," she said icily, "to be a half-blood than a strange, inbred fool like yourself. You have done your son no favours by passing on your narrow-minded thinking. He will suffer in the long run." She turned away quickly as the woman's high, false laughter rang in her ears.

"Well really, Draco!" she said to her son as the door of Flourish and Blotts slammed behind Maeve's furnace of frustration.

After that encounter, the lustre of the day was dulled somewhat. They decided to make their way back to Grimmauld Place, although they were in a rather more subdued mood than they had been that morning. Tonks and Remus walked on ahead, leaving her walking beside a very quiet Harry. She watched him chewing his bottom lip in agitation and she wished they could have avoided the unfortunate encounter in the bookshop.

"I'm sorry that happened, Harry," she began, but he shrugged his shoulders and it felt like all the good work she had done in getting him to talk over the past few days had been undone. A screech came from ahead as Tonks, who had been walking a pretend tightrope on a low wall, fell off, and Remus had to drag her to her feet as she grinned and brushed herself off.

"Hard to believe someone that clumsy is an Auror," Maeve joked affectionately, and Harry managed a weak smile.

"She's a good witch though. Remus says she's very handy in a tight spot," Harry said, raising his head and looking at her. Something was niggling him about the events of the afternoon. He wanted to ask her about it, but he wasn't sure what explanation she would be able to give him.

"What is it?" she asked, seeing the questioning look on his face.

"Nothing really," he said slowly. "It's just that when you grabbed my arm – in Flourish and Blotts – well, it felt like fire shot up my arm."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Did it hurt?" she asked.

"No, no, it didn't hurt." He shook his head. "It just felt… I don't know. I suppose it calmed me down."

This puzzled her. It wasn't an effect she had ever come across before, and no one had ever mentioned it to her in the past. She had grabbed Remus back at the cottage, but he had never said anything about heat. She resolved to mention it to him later to see what he thought.

"Well, as long as it didn't hurt," she said steadily. "It must be some charm I used subconsciously."

Neither of them appeared convinced, but they dropped the subject and before long the party had arrived back at Grimmauld Place, which was in darkness and, unusually, there were no cooking smells coming from the kitchen.

"It's started," Molly wailed, as they walked in to the cold kitchen. She was sitting at the table clutching a teacloth, listening to the wireless. "There have been two attacks on wizards in the past hour," she explained with horror in her voice. "Tolpuddle Binderton and James Renching are both dead."

Tonks gave a little yelp. "I knew Tolpuddle, we called him Tolly. He was on the same Auror training course as me." Her eyes reflected the sudden realisation that if one of her fellow trainees had been killed, then it could just as easily be her next time.

"Now, Molly, we don't know this is Voldemort's doing," Remus said, sitting next to her and prising the teacloth from her hands before she shredded it. "They could be unrelated accidents."

"The Dark Mark," she said tremulously, "was seen at both incidents. They were found lying there as if nothing had happened, stone dead."

Fat tears began to creep from the corners of her eyes, and Tonks ran across to give her a hug.

"Where they killed using Avada Kedavra?" Harry asked quietly, at which Molly began to wail again, her tears flowing freely down Tonks' shoulder.

"Molly, don't upset yourself like this," Remus said. "We knew this would happen sooner or later." He stood up and left the job of comforting her to Tonks. He now had other things on his mind. Maeve had been supposed to leave alone on Friday, but in light of this news he thought this wasn't such a good idea.

He asked Harry to go to his room while he discussed some things with Maeve, but Harry looked reluctant to leave them.

"I want to stay, Professor Lupin," he said firmly. "I spent the whole of last year being kept in the dark. It's not going to happen again." His mouth was set firm, and Remus looked sad for a moment before redoubling his resolve.

"I really can't discuss this with you now, Harry. It's for Selene's safety." He hoped the appeal on behalf of Maeve would help Harry make the right decision. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

"Well, then all the more reason I should stay," he said, and the others looked at him in surprise.

"Why, Harry?" Maeve asked gently.

"I don't know," he said, looking away from her, not wanting to admit that he had come to care for her in the same way he cared for her brother, and he didn't want her hurt or even worse.

"Harry, please, it's important that I talk to Selene alone," Remus insisted. Harry gave him a disgusted glare before stomping from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Maeve watched him go with regret, looking at Remus with anguish in her eyes.

"He should know, Remus. I can't go on like this," she said in a low voice.

Remus shook his head firmly, steering her from the room before Tonks and Molly took an interest in their conversation. They climbed the stairs to the drawing room and sat on the sofa together.

"He can't know, Maeve. No one, beyond the people Dumbledore has decided upon, should know, and you need to be careful about what you say in front of people. Molly and Tonks could have easily heard what you said and have asked some awkward questions," Remus admonished her gently.

"I know, Remus, but it is so hard to keep the pretence going. I had no idea it would be this difficult. And there is something strange going on between Harry and me that I can't explain."

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"I feel so protective towards him," she confessed.

"We all do, Maeve," he said.

"No." She shook her head. "This is something else, Remus, something strange. When I grabbed his arm today in Flourish and Blotts, he felt a shot of heat go up it."

He frowned, as if some vague memory had been triggered, but he couldn't quite place what the information meant. It was there, he just couldn't locate it. She was looking at him as if he could provide the answers, and he felt inadequate under her scrutiny so he changed the subject.

"I think you need to be accompanied back to Hogwarts. I'm going to call on Mad-Eye Moody to take you back by train, and I'll check with Dumbledore about coming myself. He may think you should have even more protection."

She fingered the sleeve of her robe, upset that suddenly he viewed her as someone incompetent who couldn't take care of herself. She sighed heavily and looked at him with sadness.

"This is the beginning, isn't it, Remus? The beginning of what could be the end."

"Don't say that, Maeve. It could be our chance to rid the world of his evil once and for all." Remus was displaying his optimistic streak again.

"Or make way for even more evil to come after. I knew this would happen but it doesn't stop me longing for home and the safety I had at Abbeylara."

They both glanced at the door as a floorboard creaked. Remus moved swiftly to open it, and he looked out onto the corridor. He couldn't see anyone, but he had a strong feeling he wasn't alone. He also had a horrible feeling he knew why, but he couldn't prove it and so went back into the room closing the door firmly behind him.

"It's settled, Maeve. You will be going back with protection on Friday." His face was firm and she knew there was no point arguing about it. "Let's go and help Tonks sort Molly out. I am sure we can manage to make supper between us."

She got up reluctantly and went to help in the kitchen, but she did so with a heavy heart and the knowledge that the deaths of those two poor wizards had changed everything beyond recognition.

The next day Dumbledore called a meeting of The Order at Grimmauld Place. Early in the morning lots of voices could be heard coming from the room beside the kitchen. Maeve had been excluded from the meeting, which rankled a little, but she took it with good grace and stayed in her room packing her belongings ready for the trip the following day. A few hours later footsteps could be heard trooping from the house. All the noise had woken Mrs Black, who screamed at them all from her position by the door, but today no one was in the frame of mind to be bothered with her so her insults went unheeded. After a short time had passed there was a knock at her door. When she opened it Ron stood there looking apprehensive.

"They want to see you in the drawing room," he said ominously.

"Who does?" she asked.

"Professor Dumbledore and old Mad-Eye; they look really serious." He gulped. "It's bad, isn't it? Those two wizards that died mean it's starting again."

"Yes, Ron, I'm afraid it probably is starting again." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "But we'll get through it, we did last time."

"We only got through it last time because Harry stopped Voldemort," Ron said knowingly. "Is that going to have to happen again?"

She looked at the fear on Ron's face and it brought home what she would have to face at Hogwarts. All these children who had been too young to remember the last time would be thrust into a terrifying war that would upset their lives and tear families apart. She knew unless Voldemort was stopped quickly some of them would lose family members, and some of them would suffer as their families defected to the dark side. There was a high probability that in-fighting would begin at the school as different people found themselves on different sides, and she hoped fervently that the day would never come when one of the pupils was killed.

Shaking these murky thoughts away she looked at Ron and lied. "No, Ron, I don't think the people in power will let that happen again."

But she knew from what Harry had told her about the prophecy he had heard from Dumbledore that that was precisely what would have to happen before Voldemort was vanquished. This thought made her even more fearful for the future.

She opened the door of the drawing room to be faced with the sight of Alastor 'Mad- Eye' Moody staring straight at her from his position immediately behind the door. She did get the distinct impression that the slight thud she had heard as the door opened was him being hit in the face by it. He was rubbing his head slightly, his magical eye swirling frantically in its socket. This concerned her slightly. If he couldn't win a fight with a door he was hardly likely to be the best person to protect her from any stray Death Eaters they might happen upon.

He was the most battered-looking person she had ever come across, with a chunk missing from his nose, and skin that looked like dried seaweed. The scars that crisscrossed his entire face clearly showed the kind of life he had led and she couldn't help but wonder if he had accumulated that many because he was very brave or very stupid.

Dumbledore was standing by the glowing fire watching the two of them assess each other, until finally Mad-Eye gave a grunt of approval, moving out of the way to let her pass.

"Maeve, you know why I am here," Dumbledore said with a grave tone in his voice. She nodded quickly, surprised to hear him use her real name in company.

"I have taken the liberty of letting Tonks and Alastor in on our little secret, so we can talk freely," he explained quickly. The decision had not been an easy one, but he failed to see how he could offer her adequate protection without enlisting the help of trusted friends.

She glanced at the grizzled man who circled the room slowly, keeping his magical eye on her at all times, and then she looked across at Tonks who winked at her encouragingly. Maeve had to admit she wasn't entirely thrilled with the prospect of these two being her new guardians.

"I want you to return as planned on Friday, with a minimum of fuss. We have to assume that Voldemort does not yet know your secret so it would be pure misfortune if he were to choose you as his next victim. However, we cannot send you unprotected so Alastor will be coming with you and will watch you from a safe distance to make sure no one gets too close to you," said Dumbledore.

She nodded, pleased at least that the security measures would not be too invasive. She assumed that this would be the extent of the discussion, but Dumbledore hadn't quite finished. He coughed to clear his throat.

"I also understand that you have a problem with Harry, specifically with the story you are telling him," he said and she threw a poisonous look at Remus for divulging that particular conversation, which she would rather have remained private. Remus deflected her look with a small smile that had the hint of an apology about it.

"Not really a problem, Professor," she replied, trying to play it down and failing.

"Remus believes that Harry may have overheard a conversation you had, which may have inadvertently revealed that you are not who you say you are. He has an invisibility cloak and seems to find lots of excuses to use it," Dumbledore said with a wry smile. Maeve looked flustered and Dumbledore did his best to put her at ease.

"What I suggest you do is tell him the truth." Dumbledore smiled and she looked at him in surprise.

"But, Professor…" Was she really being given permission to do something she had been longing to do? Surely this was too easy?

"He wasn't told the truth last year and I fear that caused more problems than it solved, so I think candour is the order of the day. I will leave it up to you to decide when the moment is right to tell him, but I would think you should broach the subject with him before you leave for Hogwarts." He walked towards her, patting her gently on the shoulder. "I shall see you at Hogwarts, my dear, but now I have to leave for the Ministry. Goodbye."

And with a rush of wind he was gone, making her jump slightly. Tonks immediately hurried across to her with admiration in her eyes.

"I had no idea you were a Metamorphmagus," she said, excitement bubbling up in her voice.

"Tonks," Remus said in a warning tone form the doorway.

"Or that you came from such an amazing family, did you know that your mother…" But whatever she had been about to say was cut off by Remus barking at Tonks to be quiet.

Mad-Eye Moody stopped his endless travail around the room, coming to a halt in front of Maeve, who tried to look him in the eyes but found it impossible without sending her own eyes on a round trip of their sockets.

"I'll pick you up at seven in the morning. Have your luggage ready and your wits about you," he said, his voice solemn as his magical eye rolled wildly in its orbit.

"I'll be ready," she said.

"Good. I'll be off then," he replied and with that he too Disapparated from the room with a pop.

"I have to go see Harry," Maeve said, looking first at Tonks and then Remus as if either of them would try to stop her. Remus wondered if she knew what she was about to unleash. She seemed to think Harry would be grateful for the truth, but he thought Harry might well be too angry at the deception to see sense. They both watched her leave the room hurriedly and the look they exchanged wasn't one brimming with confidence at the outcome of her revelations to Harry.

She climbed the stairs, her eager feet making no sound as she skipped from step to step. As Maeve reached the room Harry shared with Ron she could hear loud cheering and roars of triumph from within. She knocked on the door and instantly the noise ceased followed by a loud shout of "Who is it?"

"It's Selene," she called back through the solid wood, the lie passing through the door with ease. There came the sound of footsteps, and Ron's face appeared behind the now open door.

"Hi," he said. "I was just watching a replay of the Quidditch, come in."

She walked in to find Harry sitting up on his bed reading a book. He didn't look up as she entered and Ron could see there was something going on that he didn't know about.

"Right then," he said cheerfully. "Just have to go and, erm, polish my broom or something." He pulled his face apologetically at Harry as he backed from the room, leaving them alone with whatever it was they had to discuss.

The door had barely closed behind him before Maeve started to speak.

"Harry, I want to tell you the truth," she said abruptly, having decided the best way to go about this was to tell the story as quickly as possible. He didn't look at her, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the book in his hands. "I wanted to tell you the truth from the moment I met you, but I couldn't. Now I find I can."

Not a flicker.

"I'm not really Selene Lupin and I'm not Remus' sister." She shifted her position slightly. "My name is Maeve O'Malley and I'm from a place called Abbeylara in Ireland. Voldemort tried to kill me once, but failed. I have been in hiding ever since."

He turned a page slowly.

"Professor Dumbledore brought me back because he believed my safety had been compromised and thought this was a good disguise to adopt. I used to attend Hogwarts so know the school well. It obviously meant telling a few untruths to people to maintain the disguise, and I hadn't realised how difficult that would be."

Still silence.

"I was at school with Remus, although we weren't particularly close, but I was your mother's best friend whilst I was there."

Harry leapt from the bed as if she had poured a bucket of boiling water over him; his face was contorted with rage.

"You're lying!" he yelled at her. "That's just not true. I've never even heard of you, and if you were my mum's best friend there would be a picture of you in the album Hagrid gave me. You are Professor Lupin's sister, you even look like him!" he said triumphantly.

She shook her head slowly. "I'm a Metamorphmagus, Harry. This is a disguise. I was only at Hogwarts for three years. I left abruptly. My father, in an act of cruelty he has yet to surpass, removed me from school because I had formed a relationship that he did not consider proper, and he refused me any contact with my old friends. But there were photographs; I don't know what happened to them though. I never saw your mother again, Harry, after I left, a fact which I never cease to regret."

"Why should I believe you?" he asked passionately. "You have been lying to me for the past week so why should I believe this?" He didn't dare believe this could be true. A friend of his mother's would be too much to ask for.

"Because if I am not telling the truth it would be a very cruel trick to play on you. Do you think I'm that cruel?" Her eyes were wide with concern.

Harry remembered the warmth of that touch in the bookshop and he knew she was telling the truth, he just couldn't quiet take in what she was saying.

"Then you knew Dad and Sirius?" He looked at her with longing.

"Yes, I did, I knew them both. I didn't know them very well, but they were very well known about school." She could see he was beginning to unbend a little so she smiled. "I am sorry about the deception, Harry. I thought it would be easy, but I realised when I met you that it wouldn't be and I was proved right."

"It just seems that everything is lies. I don't know who, or what, to believe anymore. The world is upside down and I feel like I'm falling off it sometimes." He looked at her sadly. "Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense." She knelt by his bed, looking up at him. Lily's green eyes looked back at her, making her experience a fresh wave of grief for her bright young friend who had had so much life in her and such a good future. "But I promise that, no matter what, I will not tell you a lie again. From now on only the truth matters."

He gave her a look that could have been gratitude or it could have been relief. Either way she squeezed his hand and stood up. He looked like he needed some time alone to come to terms with what she had just told him.

"I have to leave in the morning but we can spend a bit of time together before I go. Perhaps you would like to talk about your mum, or perhaps you wouldn't… but whatever you want to know, I'll tell you. Just ask," she said, walking towards the door.

"There is one thing," he said in a low voice.

"Yes?"

"Could you show me what you really look like, I mean, how mum saw you when you where at school." He looked away quickly in case she found the request offensive, but she gave a soft chuckle.

"You want me to transform back into the girl I was at school!"

"If you don't mind? I just want to see what Mum saw."

"Well okay," she said, "but just for a minute. I don't want Ron seeing me as a schoolgirl." Her eyes glowed with amusement.

She crumpled her face with concentration and Harry watched, entranced, as she shrank a few inches, her hair changing back to the usual tumble of red. He stared as her face grew smaller and more defined, with deeper, brown eyes. She had undoubtedly been one of the most striking girls in her year, but Harry didn't see any of this. All Harry saw was his mum's best friend, and it brought a heavy lump into his throat because now he knew he had seen her in some of the photographs. There was one in particular where the two young witches had stood laughing into the camera with their arms around each other's shoulders looking as young and carefree as they really had been back then, before Voldemort ruined things for everyone. Just as the pain of seeing her became almost too much for him to bear, she wrinkled her face again and now he was looking at the same person but older and, if anything, more attractive than her younger self.

"This is me, Harry, as I really am and as one day I hope to be again." Her voice was lilting, with a musical note to it that her incarnation as Selene didn't have. Harry found himself enchanted by that voice. Before he had the chance to fully take the image in she was once again Selene Lupin.

"No one must know, Harry, not even Ron." She impressed the need for secrecy on him, her serious face reflecting the gravity of her words.

"I understand," he nodded, "I won't tell anyone." He looked at her earnestly. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Go ahead," she said.

"You said your father removed you from school because you had an unsuitable relationship." He was aware his question may sound cheeky, but he felt he had to know. "Who was that with?" Mental images of her with Remus had crossed his mind. What could be more unsuitable than a werewolf?

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. Harry was a perceptive boy and of course he would pick up on the one thing that could possibly drive a wedge between them. But she had promised him the truth so she gave it to him unflinchingly.

"Severus Snape."

Harry felt his insides turn to ice.


	8. Divided Loyalties

Chapter Eight

Divided Loyalties

Maeve awoke early on Friday morning after a night of very little sleep. It had been just before four o'clock when she finally nodded off, but she was awake again at five-thirty, at which point she abandoned the idea of sleep completely. She dressed rapidly, and lugged her trunk down the stairs, propping it by the door ready for Mad-Eye's arrival. It felt like she was sneaking around, but she really didn't want to wake anyone up at this early hour. If she was honest with herself, she also didn't want to face anyone after the disaster with Harry and his sullen refusal to have anything else to do with her. She flicked her wand at the kettle, watching patiently as it began to boil. Another flick of her wand brought a cup and the coffee jar out of the cupboard. She was sitting at the table with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands when the door opened to reveal a bleary-eyed Remus, who staggered in with the aura of sleep still around him.

"Any for me?" he asked, nodding at her coffee.

"I didn't think you drank coffee," she replied shortly.

"I don't, but I really meant anything hot and wet." He smiled, but she didn't return the gesture so he shuffled across to the kettle to make his own.

"I'm sorry Harry didn't take it well yesterday," he said as he stirred his tea before bringing it to the table. "I know you wanted it to go better."

He hadn't had the chance to speak to her since yesterday, when they had all heard the verbal explosion in Harry's room, because she had closed herself away, refusing to talk to anyone else. He had thought this was pretty dramatic behaviour until he had seen Harry's red face and felt his sharp tongue as their paths had crossed on the corridor. Then he knew that whatever had passed between them had been extremely hurtful.

"He will come around," he added, but even as the words left his mouth he knew they were just banal platitudes.

"I don't want to talk about it, Remus, really I don't." She looked at him with the bitter tang of defeat all around her.

"You should," he persisted, "because I'm not going to see you for a while."

"I made a dreadful mistake. I ruined things with Harry. I need to forget about it and move ahead to my work at Hogwarts." Her voice was devoid of emotion as she drank her coffee, which was still so hot it scalded her tongue.

"I can't make you talk about it, but it might help," he said, his voice full of concern. "Don't bottle it up, eh?"

"I'm not a child," she said in a tone that suggested that was exactly what she was. She wasn't pleased with her slanging match with Harry the previous night, but he had reminded her so much of Severus, with his pigheadedness, that she had lost her temper with him. They had both said some unforgivable things. It was irreparable. She had to put it to the back of her mind and focus on other things. They finished off their drinks in silence, an awkwardness about them that so far they hadn't experienced. Remus blamed this on her imminent departure, which meant they wouldn't be in contact for the foreseeable future and was perhaps causing her to push him away slightly.

They heard the front door open with a soft click, causing Maeve to glance at the clock; she wasn't quite ready to leave yet.

"That must be Alastor. He's early," she said to Remus, who looked at her anxiously.

"You know I wish I was coming with you, don't you? I want you to send me an owl the minute you get there." He looked at with tender eyes. "In the short time we've known each other you have come to mean a great deal to me, so I want you to take very good care of yourself."

She bit her lip to try to prevent the tears that threatened to fall, managing to catch a sob before it escaped, but unable to disguise the sadness in her eyes. Maeve allowed Remus to enfold her in his arms as Mad-Eye came clomping into the kitchen. The old Auror cleared his throat loudly to break up the embrace.

"One minute, Alastor," Remus said, his voice muffled by Maeve's hair. Mad-Eye nodded, backing out of the door with a clatter. She stepped away from him with a shaky smile on her sad face.

"Thank you, Remus, for everything." She kissed him modestly on the cheek. With a final promise to send an owl when she arrived, she went to join Mad-Eye in the hallway. Remus listened to the door open; there was low exchange of voices followed by the trunk being clunked down the steps and then she was gone. He sat back down heavily at the table, wondering when, if ever, he would see her again.

The journey back to school was thankfully undisturbed, and Mad-Eye kept a discreet distance from her. The train was buzzing with talk about the two recent deaths. There was a general feeling of terror and anticipation, but also just the vaguest suggestion of excitement. Everyone was very animated, eager to suggest their own theories as to why the two wizards had been killed. Naturally, there was also whispered speculation as to who would be next. She closed her eyes to all this talk, managing to drift into an uneasy sleep that was populated with dreams of an angry Harry, Draco Malfoy and rank on massed rank of Death Eaters. Only when the train drew into Hogsmeade station did she open her eyes to be greeted with a view of the rugged countryside that she had left only a week ago. It was beginning to seem like years.

There was a carriage standing at the entrance to the station with one of the Hogwarts Thestrals between the shafts. Its black skin glistened in the late afternoon sunshine as it watched her with its white eyes, giving the occasional lazy beat of its wings. She pulled her trunk across the platform under the watchful eye of Mad-Eye Moody, who had remained on the train, and she was grimly aware that she had no idea whom Dumbledore would send to meet her. The door of the carriage was opened briskly by a youngish man, who stepped out with much smoothing down of his robes and patting of his hair. He rushed across to her, giving her a thin, polite smile as he took in her appearance.

"Professor Lupin, I presume. I am here to escort you back to Hogwarts," he announced officiously.

"Thank you," she said with a glance back at the train. Mad Eye gave her a nod so she presumed this was the man she was supposed to meet.

"If you would care to step into the carriage then we can start our return journey. It is advisable that we hurry, for your own safety and mine." He looked around him as if he expected Voldemort to jump off the train at any minute.

He left her to lug the trunk to the carriage, holding the door open as she struggled to get it up the step. She had always felt that witches could get along fine without the help of men, indeed during her youth she had briefly subscribed to the magazine _Feminist Witch_. She had stopped reading it when they had proclaimed that the traditional witches pointed hat was a symbol of male oppression, urging witches everywhere to take them off and burn them. She had always thought her hat suited her and wasn't about to burn it in the name of freedom. But despite her weakly feminist attitudes, she still thought it was pretty unhelpful of him to stand there watching her struggle with such a large trunk. He tutted at the amount of time she was taking, giving a sigh of relief when she finally managed it. He cast her a look that clearly implied he thought she was a liability.

Once inside she watched as he picked up a clipboard from the seat beside him and began making a series of ticks on a piece of paper.

"Everything seems in order," he said by way of an explanation. "Professor Dumbledore trusted me with this extremely important task. I think I have made a jolly good job of it."

"I'm sorry, you seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I'm afraid I don't know yours," she said.

"Weasley," he announced grandly. "Percy Weasley, Chief Personal Assistant to Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"It's nice to meet you, Percy. May I call you Percy?" she said, wondering how many personal assistants Dumbledore actually had.

"Ah." He looked piqued. "I'd prefer Mr Weasley, if you don't mind. It maintains my position with the students and is, I feel, more respectful."

"Well, Mr Weasley," she said with a degree of sarcasm that was completely lost on Percy, "you must be related to Molly and Arthur Weasley."

The frown that dashed across his face was fleeting, but it was enough for her to realise she had put her foot in it. When she came to think about it, Molly and Arthur had never mentioned anyone called Percy.

"I am related to them, unfortunately," he replied, hiding his face behind the clipboard while writing something down furiously. She felt that the conversation had come to an end so turned her head to stare out of the window, musing on the broken relationship with this Weasley and the ones she knew.

Hogwarts was far more active than it had been when she left it. With only two days to go until the start of term, there were frenzied preparations going on throughout the castle. As she alighted from the carriage, Maeve re-enacted the earlier scene with her trunk. She had to fight the urge to drop it on Percy's foot, but she restrained herself, letting it slide gently to the floor. She mentally laughed at herself for her refusal to use magic to perform such mundane tasks. Living with a Squib – a very bad-humoured Squib – meant she had tempered her use of magic for ordinary things.

As Percy ushered her into the Great Hall, they narrowly avoided a collision with a herd of desks that were being shepherded from one classroom to another by a very short, out-of-breath wizard whom she recognised as Professor Flitwick. He gave her a cheerful wave as he continued to flick his wand at the desks, marshalling them into some sort of order before propelling them down the corridor.

She could hear a clip-clopping sound that made her glance around hurriedly, surprised to hear a hoofed creature inside the Hall, but all became clear when she saw a centaur approaching. She had always found centaurs to be the most mystical of creatures, but the opportunity to meet one in the flesh had seldom presented itself; they were usually very prickly around humans, keeping themselves to themselves. She was intrigued, therefore, by the presence of one inside Hogwarts Castle.

"Good day to you, Professor Lupin." He was a handsome man with blond hair that was almost white, his coat a beautiful creamy palomino colouring. He inclined his head at her respectfully and she smiled in return. "My name is Firenze. I share the responsibility for the teaching of Divination here at Hogwarts."

"I'm delighted to meet you, Firenze. Please call me Selene."

His eyes looked straight through her. She knew there would be little point in deliberately lying to him. Centaurs had the ability to see far beyond what was evident to most. He would already have discerned something of the true nature of her presence here.

"We must speak privately at some point," he said cryptically. "I believe there are things perhaps you are not aware of."

Her face bore a look of concern as she looked into his ice-blue eyes, but his smile eased her sudden apprehension.

"Nothing to be worried about, I can assure you, but nonetheless, I think you need to know."

"What does she need to know?" A cold voice interrupted them, making her jump. She hadn't heard Severus approach.

"Ahh, Professor Snape, good day to you." Firenze gave a bow to his fellow professor, but Severus merely grunted in response. He repeated his demand to know what it was that Firenze wanted to discuss, but Maeve cut him short in his pursuit of an answer by thanking Firenze, promising she would make time to come and see him. Firenze nodded at her once more before trotting away down the corridor, leaving Severus and Percy looking at her with interest.

"Thank you for accompanying me to the castle, Mr Weasley," she said in a tight voice to Percy, who simpered slightly under the praise, "but that will be all."

"Good," he said gratefully, "because I have so much to do before the start of term, and I don't know how I will fit it all in." He hurried off shaking his head.

"Good time in London?" Severus drawled.

"Yes, very good," she replied. "I have a lot to do, Severus, so if you'll excuse me." Maeve turned to walk away, but he coughed. She stopped, turning to him with a questioning look.

"Was there something else, Severus?" she asked, hoping that he wouldn't want to talk about the last time they had met.

"Be careful with Firenze. You know what centaurs are like, they make predictions and prophecies without knowing if what they are seeing is true." His lip curled scornfully. "I think they make it up," he added, emphasising every word carefully, his lips curling around each syllable.

"Thank you for the warning, Severus. I will bear that in mind when I speak with him. Now, if there is nothing else?" She didn't know why she was suddenly angry with him; perhaps it was Harry and their eternal feud, or perhaps it was the memory of that night in the cottage. Whatever it was, she wasn't at all comfortable talking to him, and she was very relieved when Professor McGonagall appeared. After giving her a warm greeting, the Transfiguration teacher requested Severus' help with something so Maeve was released from having to make further conversation. She escaped up to her office, using her wand to levitate her trunk up the stairs. It was one thing lifting it into a carriage, but she wasn't going to struggle up several flights of stairs with it.

She dressed in one of her new green robes for the start-of-term banquet, and approached the Great Hall with a fluttering feeling in her stomach. This was only the first of many tests she would have to face over the coming months. She knew it would be a nervous time for her. Spending so much of her life alone had left her feeling uncomfortable in crowds, and it didn't get much worse than this; being on display in front of hundreds of students who were all eager to see their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Her trepidation was mingled with anticipation at the prospect of participating in the annual ceremony, which previously she had only seen from the viewpoint of a student.

She entered the Hall from a side door, which brought her straight to the long teachers' table that ran widthways across the room, whilst the student's tables ran perpendicular to it. Professors Flitwick, Trelawney, Binns and Sinistra were already seated, and greeted her with smiles and nods. She hurried past Professor Trelawney, just in case the dreamy-looking woman decided to throw another prediction her way. Maeve didn't feel up to another of her thunderbolts; she had enough on her plate just getting through the ceremony. A pretty little card announced her place, so she sat down, surveying the empty Hall with the four tables all set ready for the feast. Candles hovered gracefully in the air, tempting her to look up at the famous enchanted ceiling. Maeve felt a rush of pure pleasure as she watched the twinkling stars in the unreal night sky. The door to the side creaked open and Severus swept in; he quickly scanned the table, nodding at the other teachers before silently taking his place beside her. He sat back in his chair, pressing cold fingers to his mouth in a gesture of contemplation. She cast him a sideways glance, startled at just how ashen-faced he was. There wasn't usually much colour to him, but now it looked as if every drop of blood had been drained from his body.

"Are you feeling all right, Severus?" she whispered, unable to keep a note of concern from her voice.

"Yes, quite all right thank you, Professor," he replied quietly, keeping his face forward as a loud cacophony of voices rose from outside the Hall. The opening of the huge main doors allowed the students to enter, and they filed noisily to their House tables, preventing her from pursuing the matter. She watched as many curious glances were sent her way so she fixed a smile to her face that she hoped was welcoming and approachable, although one or two students from the Slytherin table were heard to mutter that they didn't know who she was, but she looked a bit simple.

She cast her eye over the Gryffindor table, immediately spotting Ron Weasley's flaming red hair. He was having an animated conversation with a young girl whose main feature was a large amount of bushy hair. Maeve watched with amusement as the girl gave Ron a filthy look before turning to the boy on her other side. As the girl leaned forwards she caught a glimpse of his face; it was Harry. He looked almost as tired and pale as Severus, and was clearly in no mood to talk to the girl, who Maeve guessed must be Hermione Granger.

The rest of the teachers had arrived by now. Professor Dumbledore had slipped in unnoticed; with a few minor adjustments to his robes he sat down beside Maeve with a brief, but warm, greeting. A hush descended on the Hall as Professor McGonagall led in a troop of timid-looking first years, their eyes darting around the Hall in abject terror at the sight of so many strange people. Maeve couldn't help but feel a certain kinship with them in their discomfort at being under the scrutiny of the rest of the school. The Sorting Ceremony got underway with its usual seriousness. Before long all the children were sitting at their respective House tables being warmly greeted by their new fellow House members. She still couldn't keep her eyes off the Gryffindor table or its occupants. She raised an eyebrow because Ron had suddenly gone very pale; she followed the direction of his gaze to see that Percy Weasley had joined the staff table, perched on the end like an afterthought. Poor Ron, she thought. He didn't seem to have expected that, and the horrible thought occurred to her that they might be brothers.

At this point Dumbledore stood up to allow Professor McGonagall to take her place beside him at the table. He remained standing, clearing his throat before addressing the Hall.

"It gives me great pleasure to welcome our newest students to Hogwarts and, of course, to welcome back our old ones." His voice rang across the Hall as he stretched out his arms in a gesture of welcome. "I have the usual start-of-term notices to read to you, but I think that can wait until after we have eaten." He gave them all a huge smile as their tables suddenly began to fill up with food.

Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, floated across to the Gryffindor table, taking up a position beside a round-faced boy, who immediately shuffled further away from him. The ghost was watching them eat longingly, but they had long since ceased to notice poor Nick's urge to taste food, all except the first-years who were gawping at him with fascination etched on their faces. That is, until he showed them why he was called Nearly Headless Nick, and then they became rather more interested in their plates. The girl that Maeve presumed to be Hermione kept glancing across at her, looking away quickly when Maeve caught her eye. A few times she said something to Harry, but Harry was steadfastly refusing to look at the high table. Maeve realised it was probably rather unfortunate that she was seated next to Severus as this would just reinforce their connection in Harry's eyes. Severus was eating very little, pushing the food slowly around his plate in a lacklustre way. He kept looking across at the Slytherin table with a frown on his face. The students and staff finished off their puddings, the noise level once again began to rise as thoughts turned to the new school year and the current state of the wizarding world.

It was at this juncture that Dumbledore once again stood up, and the students immediately quietened down. He paused for a few moments before beginning his speech, looking slowly around the Hall with a sombre expression on his face. The students shifted uncomfortably in their seats, aware that Dumbledore's speech this year might not be a cheery welcome or a simple list of things they could and could not do.

"I hope you all enjoyed that magnificent banquet," he began in a light voice. "And whilst you digest it I would like to go through a few things with you. Firstly, I feel obliged to say, as I do every year, that the forest is out of bounds to all students, a fact some of our older ones would do well to remember."

He looked towards the Gryffindor table with an admonishing twinkle in his eyes, causing a few of the Gryffindors to grin sheepishly.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch to bring to your attention the fact that his office is forbidden to all students, and under no circumstances will tampering with his equipment be tolerated. This comes after a particularly unfortunate incident in which some of his buckets were charmed and followed him round the corridors tipping dirty water over him." If some of the students detected a hint of amusement in Dumbledore's voice they didn't let on, although there were one or two guffaws from the back of the Hall.

"I am immensely pleased to introduce a new member of the teaching staff to you. Professor Selene Lupin has kindly agreed to take on the rather unpredictable role of our Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, so I hope you make her feel very welcome." He nodded to Maeve, who stood up, smiling out at the students. She was rewarded with a small ripple of applause, although Harry merely stared straight through her. There was an outbreak of laughter at the Slytherin table and she could see Draco Malfoy surrounded by a small group of students looking at her with undisguised glee.

"QUIET!"

Severus' sharp voice made her jump and the Syltherins were instantly silent, looking shocked at the interruption by their Head of House. Dumbledore cast a warning look at Severus, who bowed his head and sighed deeply.

Dumbledore continued his speech with dogged determination.

"It is with great regret that I have to tell you visits to Hogsmeade will not be permitted this year." There was a chorus of groans from all tables and whispers of protest from some of the older students. Dumbledore raised his hand to silence them.

"In light of recent, tragic events my staff and I feel that your security cannot be guaranteed away from the school grounds. I must stress that we have not made this decision lightly. I understand your disappointment, but we will treat any attempted breach of this rule very seriously indeed. I would have to consider sending home anyone caught leaving the school grounds."

He paused for a moment to allow this to sink in before continuing in an even more serious manner.

"This brings me to the final thing I wish to talk to you about. You will all be aware by now that Lord Voldemort has returned." There were shudders of revulsion from most people in the Hall. "I cannot lie to you or give you false assurances. There may well be dark times ahead for us all. Some of you have families who may be directly involved with the fight against the forces that are gathering against us; some of you may be afraid and uncertain as we face an unsettled future. I want you all to know that, whilst you remain at Hogwarts, I will be personally responsible for your safety. Both myself and my staff will protect you no matter what the cost, even if that price is our own lives."

Percy, who was still clinging to his place at the very end of the staff table, looked very doubtful about this last part. When he had taken on the job no one had said anything about laying down his life for anyone. He wasn't sure that he would have taken the position had that been in the job description. His face was in direct contrast to Professor Binns who, unsurprisingly, looked unconcerned by this. As the only ghost on the Hogwarts teaching staff he had little to fear from this promise.

Dumbledore continued in his grave vein.

"I must ask, in return for this pledge on our part, that you take great care with your own safety. This means following the school rules to the letter, and obeying all instructions given to you by the staff no matter how strange they may seem to you."

He paused again, as if the tone of the speech were making it difficult to continue. It was hard enough to hear, so it must have been terribly difficult to utter.

"Because of the level of the current threat, I have made the decision to allow the organisation known as Dumbledore's Army to continue." There was excitement in the Hall at this news. Hermione bent her head towards Harry, whispering furiously as she did so.

"There is one condition, however. All meetings will be supervised by a member of staff. Professor Lupin has kindly agreed to take on this responsibility." Severus snorted derisively at this. "And I am sure all members will benefit greatly from her guidance. The organisation will also only be open to fourth-years and above due to the nature of the work involved." He waited for the groans to subside before adopting a kindlier, more reassuring look.

"I can see anxiety on all of your faces. I understand your doubts and fears. None of you have experienced anything like this in your lives before, although your parents will have. We must hold together at this difficult time. There can be no room for division within these walls. With a great deal of perseverance and unity, we shall overcome the threat that hangs over our lives. We shall emerge the stronger for having been through it."

The students were listening avidly, although some of the Slytherins were sneering behind their hands at the suggestion of unity. Dumbledore suddenly broke into a huge smile and threw his arms wide again.

"But enough of this gloomy talk! We have a whole year to look forward to, a year of learning, of making new friendships and renewing old acquaintances. Most importantly, we also have many more of these delicious feasts to look forward to. So please make your way to your common rooms and get yourselves settled in. We will see you bright and early for your first lessons tomorrow morning." He raised his glass to them in a toast before sitting down to a noisy round of applause from the students.

"Excellent speech," Professor McGonagall said as she stood up from the table to supervise the students leaving the Hall. "I hope it has calmed a few fears. Maybe it has also made a few students think twice about getting up to unnecessary mischief."

"We shall have to see about that, Minerva," Dumbledore said.

"I rather think we can expect more of the same from the usual suspects," Severus interjected acidly, talking across Maeve as if she wasn't there. "I think Mr Potter will find it just as difficult this year to avoid trouble as he did in the last."

Maeve pushed her chair back quickly, muttering her excuses before marching away from the table and out of the Hall. She walked straight into a fast-flowing stream of students, who eyed her curiously, and she had to sidestep quickly to disentangle herself from them. Maeve paused at the foot of the staircase to watch for Harry. She knew she probably wouldn't get the chance to speak to him, but she still wanted to see how he was. It was Ron she saw first. He gave her a quick guilty smile before digging Harry in the ribs. Harry looked so dismayed to see her standing by the stairs that she quickly moved back out of sight and hurriedly walked in the direction of the staff room, away from the chattering of the students and Harry's accusatory look.

The staff room was empty, for which she was grateful. Maeve sank into the deepest chair she could find. Why, she wondered, did people have to make things so complicated? As a relatively uncomplicated person herself, she had a hard time understanding why things had to be made so difficult by others. She could see the night sky through the staff room windows. It was deep black, pierced by the tiny glittering pinpricks of stars, and she could hear the wind begin to pick up, sighing mournfully around the building. A knock at the door made her jump. She hesitated; if it was a pupil with a general question she was in no mood to answer it, but it could – it just could – be Harry.

"Professor Lupin, are you in there?" an unknown female voice called from the other side of the door. Her fears were realised, she thought. It was a student wishing to talk about something. She rose slowly from the chair, feeling full of trepidation as she went to admit the caller. Opening the door, she found herself face to face with Hermione Granger, who wore a look of puzzled concern.

"Professor, would you mind if I had a quick word with you? It's just that I'm terribly worried about Harry. From what Ron has said you seem to have both fallen out. Ron did say that before that you were getting on really well with him, and I just wondered…" She stopped with a sudden squeak as if it has only just occurred to her that she was talking to a teacher. All the time she had been planning this conversation in her head she had forgotten she would be dealing with a real teacher, and what she was saying suddenly sounded very inappropriate given their student/teacher relationship.

"Wondered what, Miss Granger?" Maeve asked gently, seeing the doubt flit across the young girl's face.

"I wondered if you perhaps might try talking to him." Hermione looked like she was fighting a battle with herself; on the one hand she didn't want to be disrespectful to a teacher, but she did want to help Harry, who was even more sullen now than he had been at the end of last term.

"I really don't think that will help him much right now," Maeve said. "I think the best thing to do is let him come around in his own time."

"But you will be teaching us; you will be supervising D.A. There must be some opportunity to talk to him," Hermione pleaded with desperation.

"You don't understand, Hermione. I would talk to him, but he wouldn't want to hear what I have to say at the moment." Maeve shrugged her shoulders in a hopeless gesture, and Hermione was sad to hear a note of finality in the teacher's voice. "Harry needs to put some things behind him and grow up a little this term. He needs to let go of things from the past and face the future," she added with a harsh tone to her voice that surprised even herself. Hermione also looked surprised because she took a step back and made to leave, but before she did she couldn't stop herself from passing on something Harry had said to her during the brief conversation they had had about Professor Lupin.

"Harry mentioned something about you not being who we think you are."

She knew instantly that she had gone too far from the angry expression on Maeve's face. She was shocked into silence when Maeve grabbed her arm, yanking her back into the staff room and slamming the door behind her. For a few moments the taller woman, whose eyes were blazing with fire, frightened Hermione.

"What did he say?" Maeve asked urgently, her voice a low snarl. She was frightened by the trust she had put in Harry and by the fact he seemed to have betrayed that trust. She was instantly reminded of Sybill Trelawney's prophecy regarding a bitter betrayal… was it Harry who had been the betrayer? Her fear was making her harsh; she could feel herself acting in a way she would not normally act, and even the fear in Hermione's eyes didn't calm her down.

"He just said," Hermione began in a croaky voice before she stopped, embarrassed.

"Go on," Maeve insisted, resisting the urge to grab her and shake her.

"He just that you were nice enough on the outside, but inside you were cold and… well… horrible." She went bright red and looked at her shoes.

"Is that all he said?" Maeve growled at her.

Hermione nodded mutely, and was about to turn and leave again, when the door was flung open. Severus black-robed figure stood there, glaring at them both.

"Ah, Professor Lupin. I see you have met our resident know-it-all." He glowered at Hermione, who went even redder. "Miss Granger, don't tell me you are already displaying your infuriating talent for knowing everything. School hasn't even officially started yet."

Maeve was dismayed to find that it wasn't just Harry that irked Severus. She wondered if he was like this with all his students. It wasn't a pleasant thought, although given her treatment of Hermione a few moments ago she could hardly claim to be the most understanding of teachers herself.

"Hermione was just having a quiet word, Severus. It need not concern you. Thank you, Hermione, you may go now." Maeve gave Hermione a wide smile, confusing her with the sudden change of attitude. The young girl said a hasty goodbye, scuttling off before either of them had the chance to say anything else to her.

"Severus, why do I find that wherever I am you also appear to be?" Maeve asked accusingly. "It is beginning to get rather tiresome."

"Don't flatter yourself that it's your scintillating personality," he said. "I have been told I have to keep an eye on you. It's proving as odious a task as I had anticipated."

"You don't have to keep an eye on me," she said resentfully.

"What did Miss Granger want?" he asked.

"Nothing, really. She wanted me to try and talk to Harry." Maeve looked despondent again.

"Oh, good grief!" he said, rolling his eyes. "Is the boy still sulking?"

"He's not sulking, he is upset." She quickly closed the door. "He is upset because he knows who I really am. Harry was looking forward to getting to know a friend of his parents, until he realised who I had had a relationship with at school. Funnily enough that seemed to put him off me. I can't imagine why." She shot him a look that would have frozen a hot spring, but he was impervious to it.

"I can't believe you trusted that child with your secret! Of all the people to tell your real identity to? Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"Apparently so," she said in a small voice.

They stood watching each other for a few moments before she remembered she had wanted to ask him about his tired appearance. He was very evasive and mentioned something about working for the Order. She became quite cross with him, insisting he give her a proper answer. He held his head high, looking at her coldly before delivering his response.

"Voldemort knows you have escaped," he said finally.

"But he knew that anyway," she said, a cold feeling seeping through her bones.

"No, he merely had the uncorroborated word of someone whom he only half trusts that you had been seen. As such he was suspicious." Severus suddenly looked vulnerable as he let the hard mask slip for a moment. "He has now been told by someone in a position to confirm it beyond all doubt, therefore he knows I betrayed him all those years ago. Our lives have suddenly become very precarious, Maeve. It's not a pleasant feeling knowing the most powerful Dark wizard is after your blood."

"Welcome to the club," she said, but her attempt at flippancy fell flat. "Now you know how Harry feels."

"Do I? Oh, I don't think so, Maeve. The boy hasn't seen half of what Voldemort can do when he is feeling exceptionally vindictive. I know what our fate will be if the Dark Lord gets his hands on us." His face once again became hard and impenetrable.

"Who told Voldemort about me?" she asked quietly, but before he could attempt to answer her the door opened. The imposing figure of Professor McGonagall swept in, looking very annoyed at something.

"Professor Snape, perhaps you would care to visit the Slytherin common room. It would appear Malfoy has pinned one of the first-years to the wall above the fireplace because he asked him if his father was still in prison. The boy in question is understandably very upset. Your presence is required immediately."

Severus gave an impatient grimace. Without a second glance at Maeve, he left the room hurriedly, setting off in the direction of the Slytherin dungeon. His ability to place certain aspects of his life into compartments and set them to one side had always made Maeve wonder how he managed it.

"Are you well, Professor Lupin?" Minerva asked, concerned for the young woman who stood facing her. She thought she had been placed in an almost impossible situation between so many warring personalities. She wasn't sure if Maeve could hold her own in the melee she had been tumbled into. Dumbledore kept insisting that she was a powerful witch, but looking at her now she looked beaten.

"Yes, thank you, I'm just tired. I think I need an early night. My first class tomorrow is with the sixth-years, the Gryffindors and Slytherins," Maeve said quickly to cover her consternation at the news Severus had just given her. She was annoyed at not hearing the name he hadn't had the chance to impart.

Professor McGonagall smiled sympathetically.

"Well, you will certainly need your wits about you for that class," she warned before allowing the younger witch to pass her. "Watch Malfoy, Professor. He is the one who will give you the most trouble."

"We have already met. It wasn't pleasant," Maeve admitted. With a weary smile she wished Professor McGonagall a good night and climbed the now quiet staircase to her rooms.


	9. A Lesson Learned

Professor Dumbledore, in an attempt to put her at her ease, had offered Maeve her choice of classrooms for her lessons, so she had opted for classroom number thirteen. Her decision had been partly based on the fact that the room was located on the ground floor, not too far from the staff room, and partly because she liked the perversity of choosing what was traditionally an unlucky number. The room had long been abandoned, perhaps due to its off-putting number. When she had first opened the door, she had been knocked back by the musty odour of damp books and the staleness in the air. There were visible signs of a Muckle Mite infestation so she dealt with that first, melting the mites out of woodwork with a strong solution of Oustall. The mildewed books had been removed and put into storage, and Maeve had all the curtains replaced. Keeping the windows open for several days, combined with mixing up a potion to get rid of any residual stale smells, meant that the room was soon well aired. During her trip to Diagon Alley she had acquired some interesting charts for the walls, which she combined with some of her own things to fill the shelves. Before long the abandoned room began to look more like a classroom. This, she reflected ruefully, was the easy part. The hard part was coming up with lessons that would keep seven differing years of students occupied and interested.

She stood at the front of her new classroom, filling the time before the arrival of the sixth-years by pacing nervously. Another ten minutes would see them rushing in through the door, eager to see how their latest Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher measured up to the varied assortment they had had in the past. She wondered how Remus had felt on his first day here. It must have been very hard for him to return to the school, especially when he had to teach the son of someone who had been one of his best friends. This brought her thoughts back to Harry's bitterness so she shifted them to her first lesson, a terrifying, but less painful, prospect. As she turned to put one of her textbooks back on her desk, she froze. Something had moved in the corner of the classroom, something bright that had glinted in the light from the windows. Maeve held her breath for a few moments, waiting for whatever it was to reappear, but nothing happened. She crept closer to the corner. A bright shaft of sunlight pierced the window, bathing her in warmth; it felt like the sun had bowed down to kiss her face. She shook these fanciful thoughts from her mind, telling herself she had been imagining things. Pulling herself together, standing apprehensively by her desk, she waited for the students to arrive. She braced herself as the sound of many footsteps on the stairs told her they were on their way. The lesson was a double one and would last the whole morning. Whether she would last that long was another matter.

As was the norm at N.E.W.T. level all classes were made up of mixed Houses. The Gryffindors and Slytherins were to take this particular class together. They clattered through the door and divided themselves smoothly into two separate halves of the classroom, which was understandable, but she couldn't help wondering if it might be better to make them intermingle. She resolved to try that out at some point, but perhaps for the first lesson it might be a bit much for some of them.

Once the noise had subsided, and they were all sitting there waiting for her to begin, she greeted them with a bright "good morning".

"My name is Professor Lupin," she began.

"Yeah, we know," muttered Draco Malfoy, making the plain girl beside him giggle. Maeve ignored the interruption and continued, trying not to lose control so early in the lesson.

"You may address me as Professor or as Selene; I don't hold too much with formality and hope that during my time here you will find me approachable."

There were a few surprised looks accompanied by nods of assent from the Gryffindors, but the Slytherins merely looked bored.

"You may put your wands away," she began, her voice made sharp with nerves. The startled groans alarmed her. Maeve knew they may have wanted to do some practical work, but she hadn't expected such a strong negative response. "Just for today we will talk about the aims of this year, what we need to know in preparation for your N.E.W.T.s next year, and what we need to know given the current problems we face in the world outside of school. So I am sorry if you expected to come in here today and immediately have to defend yourself against hexes I threw at you, but…"

"Do you know any good hexes?" Malfoy said slowly with a huge smirk on his face. Maeve sighed, realising she would have to deal with Malfoy sooner rather than later. She turned to him, smiling sweetly.

"I do know some quite good hexes, Mr Malfoy." She kept her voice as controlled as she could, but she was remembering his treatment of Harry in the bookshop; she just wanted to wipe that ugly leer off his face.

"Yeah right," he mocked. "How to make someone howl at the moon!"

"Be careful, Mr Malfoy," she said softly, irritation already beginning to get the better of her.

"Well, show us one then," he goaded, tipping himself backwards on the chair in a deliberate gesture of defiance.

She withdrew her wand so quickly that no one knew what she was doing until she spoke.

"_Eximere Quisquiliae_," she said loudly, and with the briefest of flashes the seat that Draco had been occupying was suddenly empty. There were loud, horrified gasps from the Slytherin half of the room, but the Gryffindors looked amused by this turn of events. Only Hermione put her hand up in concern.

"Yes, Hermione?" Maeve asked, wondering if she should really have hexed a student and just how dim a view Albus would take of the whole thing.

"Professor Lupin, Hogwarts has a lot of magic placed upon it that sometimes can interfere with transportation spells, especially those that are placed on humans." Hermione looked a little amused despite her apparent concern.

"Really?" Maeve asked. "Do you think perhaps I should bring him back?"

This was starting to look bad. The spell had been one commonly used for removing rubbish to the rubbish bin so she had anticipated dumping Draco in the kitchen rubbish area, but this new information lent a certain unpredictability to the spell. In all her time at Hogwarts no one had ever mentioned anything about transportation spells going awry. She knew you couldn't Apparate, but… she sighed to herself and raised her wand again.

"_Contrarius Carmen_," she said quietly, pointing her wand at the place where Draco Malfoy had been, utilising a very useful little spell she had discovered years ago to undo any previous spells.

The smell was the first thing that hit them and the plain-faced girl recoiled in disgust as Draco plopped back into place. He was so full of indignation that he couldn't speak, but his mouth was also full of an assortment of potato peelings, old newspaper and rotting fish heads, and this was hindering his speech somewhat. Maeve was struggling to fight back a laugh as several chicken bones slid greasily down the front of his robes. There was something that looked suspiciously like the congealing remains of beef hotpot in his hair. The Gryffindors were now hooting with laughter and even Harry had a smile on his face.

"Oh dear, Draco, how awful," Maeve said with a feigned anxious expression on her face. "But you did ask for a demonstration."

It was probably as well that Draco had a mouthful of rubbish because otherwise there was no doubt she would have had to take points of Slytherin for his use of several colourful swear-words.

"What's your name?" Maeve asked the girl who appeared to be Draco's friend, although the girl in question was maintaining a discreet distance between herself and her reeking classmate.

"Pansy Parkinson," the girl said sullenly.

"Well then, Pansy, perhaps you would like to escort Mr Malfoy back to your common room so that he can get cleaned up a little?" Maeve was well aware that a quick Scourgify would clean him up, but she was determined to prolong his lesson in classroom etiquette.

"Do I have to?" the girl complained, giving Draco a look that suggested she would rather walk barefoot across broken glass than spend any length of time in his presence. Draco, in turn, looked very put out at this potential abandonment, but Maeve insisted she take him out of the room. They walked to the door -much to the amusement of the Gryffindors, several of whom made rude comments as they passed.

"Nice look, Draco. Not sure about your aftershave though," jeered one of the boys at the back of the room. Draco half turned to say something back to him, but Maeve intervened.

"That's enough," she called, beginning to feel a twinge of guilt at the humiliation that Draco must be feeling. She had been completely wrong to do what she did, but it was that or spend the rest of the year listening to his snide comments and suffering his disruptive behaviour. She watched with relief as Pansy closed the door behind them and she turned her attention back to the class.

"Now then, let's get back to the lesson." She looked out at their faces, wishing she knew all of their names.

"So, what's the most important tool in the fight against the Dark Arts?" she asked, looking around. Several hands shot up, including Hermione's, but she chose a sandy-haired boy at the back of the room to answer.

"What's your name?" she asked, a question she was to ask several times over the next few days.

"Seamus Finnegan, Professor, and I'd say the answer was your wand."

Maeve couldn't help smiling at the lilting Irish accent, finding, to her dismay, that it gave her a slight pang of homesickness.

"Almost there, Seamus. Your wand is one of your most important weapons. How about you, what's your name?"

"Nev... Neville Longbottom, Professor," the nervous-looking boy stammered, dropping his quill.

"Well, Neville, what do you think is the most important tool you posses?" She gave him a smile.

"Y.y.your mind, Professor?" He looked petrified of getting the answer wrong, keeping his eyes downcast as he spoke.

"Exactly!" Neville looked relieved as she patted his shoulder, and he relaxed a little in his chair. "Your mind is the most important thing you possess. If you use it well, you can get yourself out of all manner of…"

She stopped mid-sentence as the door flew violently inwards. Draco Malfoy walked back into the room with a look of satisfaction on his face, despite the fact he was still covered in rubbish. The rotten stench filled the classroom once more. A livid-looking Professor Snape was close behind Draco. He looked with fury at Maeve, who raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"And just what," he roared, "is the meaning of this?"

Neville gave a little croak of fear and a deathly silence fell on the rest of the class. Pansy Parkinson hovered in the doorway, looking smug at the prospect of the new teacher being on the receiving end of Professor Snape's anger.

"The meaning of what, Professor?" Maeve asked calmly. She was surprised by Severus's lack of professionalism in barging into her classroom like this. To counteract his anger, she kept her tone neutral.

"This," he struggled for words, "this abomination!"

"Are you calling your student an abomination, Professor? I hardly think that's fair, do you?" she replied evenly.

"You know very well what I mean," Severus retorted, bringing his anger under control. He lowered his voice to a level that was dangerously quiet. "Can you please explain why you are hexing my students?"

"Mr Malfoy asked if I knew any good hexes, so I was merely giving him a demonstration," she replied, smiling. "Or are you perhaps suggesting this lesson remains purely theoretical?"

"I am suggesting, Professor," he spat, "that you refrain from using magic on the pupils."

"And I am suggesting, Professor, that you teach your students some manners. The sort of sniggering behaviour that boy exhibited earlier will not be tolerated in my classroom. Now, if you have quite finished, I have a class to teach, and Mr Malfoy's smell is extremely off-putting."

She turned away from him, serenely walking back to the front of the class. Severus quickly sensed he had come off worse in that little exchange. There would be little point pursuing the matter in front of a class full of students, and he began to regret his rash anger. He turned on his heel with fury oozing from every pore. Severus gingerly put a hand on Malfoy's back, propelling him from the room.

"And close the door please, Professor," Maeve called out with a small smile on her face that she tried to hide from the class. The slamming door caused the room to shake, and several bats shot out of the curtains with alarm before realising it was still daylight, so they flapped back to their shelter quickly.

"Now hopefully we will be able to continue our discussion without further interruption," she said, perching herself on the edge of her desk. Looking at her students, she saw new-found admiration on their faces. Perhaps she was going to enjoy teaching after all.

"Well?" Hermione demanded as they left the classroom.

Their fellow Gryffindors were still chortling over what had happened to Draco Malfoy and had been pleased to see he had not returned to disrupt the rest of the class.

"Well what?" Harry replied, ferreting about in his bag for his timetable.

"What did you think of her teaching methods?" Hermione still hadn't given up hope of finding out exactly what had happened during the holidays between their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Harry, despite his tight-lipped attitude.

"I thought she was bloody brilliant," Ron said eagerly. "I've never seen Malfoy look so pathetic. It was even better than old Mad-Eye's ferret trick. And the way she shut Snape up was priceless."

"Honestly, Ron, I was thinking more of the lesson." Hermione gave him a pitying look. "I think we can learn a lot from her, don't you, Harry? D.A. meetings should be interesting now."

Harry gave up looking for his timetable. He was still reluctantly clinging to the feeling that Maeve had somehow betrayed his mother by getting involved with Snape, although he couldn't share that with either of his friends. Harry knew he was being completely irrational; he knew that Maeve could have in no way betrayed his mother by a simple attachment. He had just lost all sense of reason during their argument at Grimmauld Place. The problem he now had was that whatever there had been between her and Snape was over, if their confrontation in the classroom was anything to go by. If this was the case then he was harbouring an empty grudge. He was still smarting from some of the things she had said to him during their heated argument at Grimmauld Place, but on closer examination, he had to admit that some of what she had said was true. He could be hot-headed, and he was still young, too young perhaps to understand everything that went on around him. She had told him he should swallow his pride where Professor Snape was concerned, and accept that their Potions master was what he was and would never change. He had then ranted at her about Snape and Sirius' death and how vile the professor had always been to him. He hadn't listened when she had tried to explain that though Severus was a flawed man, he was essentially a good one. He wasn't ready to hear that.

He felt himself growing hot as he relived that awful scene, which had teemed with anger and frustration as she had stormed from his room, raining down admonitions on him. Hermione saw him take on the introverted look that they now knew, so well so she shook her head at no one in particular before announcing that she would be in the library if anyone wanted her.

"The library?" Ron said incredulously. "Hermione, we don't have any homework yet. What can you possibly want the library for?"

"I want to write a letter and it's the quietest place to do it," she said.

"A letter?"

"Yes, Ron, a letter. If you must know, I want to thank Viktor for the fantastic time I had in America."

Ron blushed furiously, looking very put out by this piece of news.

"Yeah, well, you weren't even supposed to be with him this summer. You were supposed to spend it with us." He gave her an accusing look, and Hermione sighed.

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity. It was the chance of a lifetime." Hermione looked astounded that Ron could even contemplate her not going. "And it was a very productive time for him. He was seen by lots of top-class Quidditch teams. Quidditch is really gaining a hold over there, and this would be a great career opportunity for him."

Ron grunted something at her, too jealous to string together something comprehensible. He turned to Harry and asked him if he was coming for lunch.

"I'm not hungry, but you go ahead," he said.

"How can you not be hungry?" Ron asked. The thought of not eating lunch was a horror too great to contemplate for the ever-ravenous Ron.

"Because I'm not!" Harry snapped at him. Ron threw his hands up in a gesture of defeat.

"All right, mate, keep your hair on. See you in McGonagall's class then." Ron flung him one last bewildered look before heading off in the direction of the Great Hall.

Harry wandered out of the main entrance and down the steps, wishing that Hagrid were here. Just as at the beginning of last year, their Care of Magical Creatures teacher was mysteriously missing, and Harry could imagine him battling giants in the mountains of Europe. He couldn't help worrying about him though, especially disturbing was the brother he had returned with last year, who was still roaming the forest. Harry walked all the way to the lake, taking a seat near to the water's edge. He wished he had someone to talk to; Remus would have been perfect, with his steady brand of shrewd advice.

The sun was high in the sky and he lay on his back, feeling its comforting warmth lulling him into a gentle sleep. The next thing he was aware of was a tall man with golden hair and glowing skin standing before him with an outstretched hand, beckoning him over. Harry struggled to his feet, feeling an overwhelming compulsion to walk towards this stranger. The light in the man's hazel eyes was almost blinding. Harry found he couldn't look at his face; instead he shielded his eyes and carried on walking. He could feel himself becoming warmer and warmer, the urge to take off his robes in the sudden heat almost unbearable. The man was saying something, but Harry couldn't quite catch the words -- something about gold and the moon. He heard the beat of hooves; the golden man smiled sadly and with one last blaze of light was gone.

"Harry Potter!" The voice was urgent. "Harry, are you hurt?"

Harry opened his eyes and found he was still lying on the ground with his robe in a heap beside him. The feeling of warmth still clung to his body, despite the fact that the sun had now disappeared behind a cloud. Firenze's graceful head bent towards him and he repeated his question.

"Are you hurt, Harry?"

"No, no, I'm fine," he said, standing up slowly and picking up his robe and bag. "I just fell asleep for a minute."

"You fell asleep for much more than a minute. You missed your class with Professor McGonagall. I was sent to find you." The centaur still looked concerned despite Harry's obvious fitness. "Perhaps a visit to Madam Pomfrey?"

"No, really, I'm fine." Harry's head was still filled with the man in his dream. He reminded Harry of someone, someone important that he couldn't place. "I should get to my last class. What time is it?"

"Your next class is with me in ten minutes, so you have plenty of time. Would you like to walk back with me?"

Harry nodded and fell into step with him as they returned to school. Although he was no longer enduring Divination with Professor Trelawney, he had taken the offer of lessons with Firenze. He wanted to be an Auror and had taken his subjects accordingly, but Dumbledore had thought it would expand his mind if he spent at least one lesson a week with the knowledgeable Firenze.

"Firenze, what do you think of dreams?" he asked.

"What do I think of them?" The centaur gave himself a moment to consider the question. "Well, I suppose they are useful in their own way. Dreams often give us an insight into the workings of our own minds."

"Can you predict things through dreams?"

"No, dreams are internal things. They have little to do with anything that will come to bear in the world around us."

Harry looked puzzled. "But last year I had dreams that…"

Firenze nodded. "Harry, those weren't really dreams; your mind was connecting with another. Tell me, have you had a dream that is troubling you?" Firenze paused on the soft grass, regarding Harry carefully.

"No, not troubling me. I thought I recognised someone in my dream. Someone I feel is close, but who I can't place. It's like I lost someone, if that makes sense."

"I suggest you look at people you have perhaps distanced yourself from recently. Do not be fooled by appearances in dreams. It is often not the form they take that is meaningful; it is the feelings behind them. Perhaps it is time to reconnect with certain people."

Harry's mind immediately shifted to Maeve, and it became apparent just who the man in the dream had looked like. It wasn't Selene Lupin. It was Maeve O'Malley, or at least what he could remember of the brief glimpse she had given him. Was his mind telling him to repair the damage caused by the argument last week? The memories of the dreams that Voldemort had caused him to have last year came rushing back and he hoped that this wasn't somehow connected. He was hesitant to go to Dumbledore with this; nothing had been mentioned about resuming Occlumency lessons so he wondered if perhaps Professor Dumbledore thought that particular danger had passed. This dream had been just a dream, and the man in it couldn't have had anything to do with Voldemort, although it had seemed as real as the dreams from last year; in that respect Harry was worried. He contemplated telling Hermione, but he knew she would insist he tell the headmaster. In fact, she would probably tell Dumbledore herself after the events of last year.

They arrived at the Divination classroom, the remainder of the day passing in a haze of softly burning herbs combined with visions of the stars. As far as Harry was concerned, Firenze's lessons were much more convincing than Professor Trelawney's had been. He was glad he didn't have to spend another year with her forever telling him he was permanently on the point of death. He knew now that he would always be in constant danger, and he didn't need some wild-haired woman going on about it all the time. Ron kept shooting him concerned looks through the lesson, which was quite impressive because they spent most of it on their backs looking at a ceiling that had been transformed into the night sky. He finally caught up with Harry as they tumbled from the classroom, grateful that the first day of lessons was over, but appalled at the amount of homework they already had from McGonagall.

"What happened, Harry?" he asked. "We were really worried about you. I thought Hermione was going to burst several blood vessels, she was getting so worked up."

"I fell asleep by the lake," Harry replied, with a touch of embarrassment in his voice. "Really stupid of me. I bet McGonagall was mad, wasn't she?"

"More worried than mad, I'd say. She collared Firenze and sent him to find you. I can help you with our homework, but she might want you to catch up with the lesson in your own time."

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who looked down at them with a dejected expression on her face.

"Wonder what's up with her?" Harry whispered to Ron, who shrugged.

"Dunno," he said. "What I do know is the password, hot buttered crumpets," he said this last part to the Fat Lady, who immediately threw her arms up in despair and gave a sad wail before swinging open to allow them in.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, "I don't think I can put up with that racket for very long."

"Maybe she's fallen out with Violet," Harry suggested. Violet was the Fat Lady's friend; they spent most of the day gossiping as they wolfed down copious amounts of chocolate.

The common room was bustling with students trying to find reasons for not doing their homework. The only one pulling out their books was Hermione, although she stopped as soon as she saw Harry and dashed across to him.

"I was so worried," she reprimanded him. "I bumped into Firenze and he said he had found you asleep outside."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry anyone. It was just hot and I felt sleepy."

Hermione was about to continue with her lecture, but Ron shook his head at her so she closed her mouth abruptly. Ron was just pleased to have Harry in a talkative mood again, and he didn't want Hermione's bossiness making him clam up.

"What's up with the Fat Lady, anyway," Ron asked, changing the subject hurriedly.

"Oh, she's on a diet," said Hermione.

"A diet!" Ron exclaimed. "All she ever eats is chocolate. A diet will finish her off."

"She'll give up in a few days." Hermione looked at him witheringly. "It's a woman thing. My mum is always starting diets and they never last beyond a week."

"How stupid is that?" Ron said. Every day he found new reasons to be bewildered by the ways of girls.

"Right, I have homework to do," Hermione said. Both Ron and Harry grimaced with disgust.

"There is no way I am doing any homework tonight," Ron said flatly.

"Me neither," Harry agreed.

"Have you sorted your Potions problem out yet?" Hermione asked Harry, who shook his head.

"Dumbledore will force Snape to take you… he has to," Ron said.

"He doesn't have to," Hermione interrupted. "It is entirely up to Professor Snape who he takes, and we know he won't take anyone with less than an O." She didn't need to add that Harry had only managed an E, which for most subjects would have been sufficient. For Professor Snape, however, it was not.

"Well, I just won't take Potions then," Harry said with a twitch of his shoulders.

"You want to become an Auror. You can't be an Auror without a N.E.W.T. in Potions," Hermione argued.

"Not necessarily," Ron said, although there wasn't much conviction in his voice.

"Yes, you do," Hermione corrected him. "Potions is essential to becoming an Auror."

Ron made a face at her, but she ignored him and turned back to Harry.

"You really need to see Professor Dumbledore. What about Occlumency?"

"Hermione, please stop going on about it. I have no Potions classes scheduled for this year and really, I'm not too unhappy about that because I don't think I could stand to be in a classroom with Snape." Harry was getting fed up. He had only been here two days and already Hermione was nagging him about things he had no control over. Professor McGonagall had promised last year that she would get him through his exams, so he was putting his faith in her that she would arrange some way for him to do Potions. Perhaps a private tutor could be found.

He was still musing over the Potions problem at dinner, although the sight of Professor Lupin was distracting. She was eating her dinner at the teacher's table, while in deep discussion with Professor McGonagall. He looked away quickly as both of them turned their eyes on him. He got the distinct impression that he was in some way included in their conversation.

"Why don't you go see her after dinner and try to patch up your differences?" Hermione said when she caught Harry looking thoughtfully at Professor Lupin. "I'm sure you would both feel better."

"You didn't hear them arguing," said Ron. "It was enough to wake the dead."

Harry gave Ron a cold look, so Ron immediately turned his attention back to his dinner, which was much more satisfying than talking to Harry at the moment.

"I might talk to her," Harry said, thinking back to his earlier dream and remembering the implied significance of it. Perhaps it was some sort of sign that he should heal the rift.

Harry didn't get the chance to see her that evening because Professor McGonagal called him to her office straight after dinner. As he had predicted, she wished to offer him a solution to both the Occlumency and the Potions problem.

"You are aware, Mr Potter, are you not, that Professor Lupin is not quite what she appears to be?" she asked him after he had sat down opposite her.

"Yes, Professor," he said.

"Then you also know she has a formidable reputation in the Potions field." She was looking at him very intently now.

"I didn't know that. I don't know very much about her really," he stumbled over his words. "We had an argument and… well, we haven't spoken since."

"Oh, Mr Potter." Professor McGonagall looked extremely exasperated with him. "You really must learn to control your temper. Whatever did you argue about?"

Harry looked very uncomfortable and began to pick at the sleeve of his robe.

"Well?" she said.

"She told me about her friendship with Snape," he said finally.

"Professor Snape, and what of it? Surely you don't extend this ill will between you and Professor Snape to his friends as well?" She looked incredulous; it was this look more than anything that made him fully aware of just how stupid he had been. "I have spoken with her this evening. She wouldn't tell me the nature of your argument and now I understand why. I know you have been through an awful lot recently, young man, but you are not alone in suffering loss and confusion. A little less introspection would be appropriate from now on, I think."

Her severe look made him feel very abashed. The anger that he had been feeling was being replaced with a grim determination to do whatever was necessary to fight the threat they faced. He knew now that this involved being a little less judgemental and a little more accepting of people that were trying to be truthful with him.

"You have to accept her help, Harry. She is the only solution to your Potions problem. Professor Snape is adamant that he will not take you, so you will have to take your lessons after normal school hours. This is a great sacrifice on Professor Lupin's part. She is giving up a lot of her time for you and for your organisation. A little gratitude would not go amiss."

He nodded and knew that he would have to go and apologise to Maeve, he could no longer afford to hold grudges. In her case, he didn't want to. He hadn't forgotten how happy she had made him feel, how it had felt like being close to his mum, albeit briefly.

"Professor Lupin is also a very good Occlumens." She leant across to him. "Harry, please do not underestimate Professor Lupin. She comes from a very powerful Irish family and will make a strong ally for you."

He nodded again. If Professor McGonagall respected her this much, she must surely be something exceptional, and he remembered the way she had managed to shut up the portrait of Mrs Black back at Grimmauld Place when everyone else had failed.

"She has agreed to try and teach you Occlumency. I would hope you will make some effort this time. It will not do to shrug off these offers of help; they are for your own benefit."

"I will do my best," he said truthfully. A new resolve was being born in Harry. Slowly he was coming to accept the prophecy and its implications. With this acceptance came the understanding that he needed to start taking all the help that was offered him. He was still affected by his earlier dream; the man had been so real, so immediate, so filled with love. Harry started in his seat as he recognised that fact. Love wasn't something he was used to. He had good friends and people that he supposed could be said to love him, but the feeling he had had in his dream was of a far deeper love than anything he had so far experienced. Now that he recognised this, he suddenly felt the loss of that stranger keenly.

"Professor," he said quickly, "may I go and see Selene… I mean Professor Lupin… I have something I need to say to her."

Professor McGonagall gave him a curious look; this boy was a mystery to her. Her students normally posed some level of difficulty, but Harry with his purity and his innate goodness had always had her flummoxed because he acted on instinct. Minerva was far more logical than that.

"Of course you may, if she will see you," she said pursing her lips together.

"Thanks!" he said, leaping up from his seat and quickly leaving the office. He raced through the corridors, up the stairs, past flickering torches and a slumbering Peeves. He had no idea what exactly he wanted to say to her. He wanted to feel something of that love that the stranger had given him, and he instinctively knew that the only person who could give it to him was Maeve O'Malley.

Harry reached her door breathless, unsure of what he was going to say. He knocked quickly and was rewarded with a welcoming 'come in'. Maeve was sitting at her desk writing something in a large book, as she looked up he was struck forcibly by her eyes. They were the same ones that had blazed fire at him earlier and once more he felt the warmth of her presence. She tipped her head to one side as they regarded each other in silence for a few moments before a spark from the fire made them both jump. She stood up and crossed the room to him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I said some awful things to you. It's been impossible to forget them."

"It was my fault," he looked at her with sorrow. "I let my hatred of Snape get in the way."

"It's understandable," she said. "Sometimes I loathe Severus too, but he is a good man, Harry."

He was about to interrupt, and she held up a hand.

"No, Harry, he _is _a good man, I tried to tell you this the other night, but you were too upset. He has his reasons for being the way he is. It doesn't excuse his behaviour, but it does go some way to explaining it."

Harry wanted to argue the point, but he didn't want to spoil this small reconciliation so he gave a small nod.

"You have seen Professor McGonagall?" she asked.

"Yes, she told me you were going to help me. Why?"

"I don't know, Harry, I just have to help you. There is something, something I can't quite grasp that makes me believe we are on a course already set for us." She gave a small laugh. "Call it fate, if you will… or chance."

The fire suddenly flickered wildly as high flames shot up the chimney; the room was bathed in golden light. Both Harry and Maeve gasped as a rich, sweet laugh filled the room.


	10. Strange Meetings

"What sort of a laugh?" Dumbledore asked. He leaned forward on his desk, surveying Maeve and Harry with concern. Their late night visit had taken him by surprise, and he was understandably worried by their tale of human laughter in Maeve's office.

"It was rich, warm and…" Maeve hesitated. Trying to describe the sound of the honeyed laughter was proving difficult.

"And happy," Harry finished the sentence for her. "It sounded happy."

"At first we thought it might have been one of the ghosts, or even Peeves playing a trick, but it wasn't a ghostly laugh; it was a real one," Maeve said. "And after what happened to Harry this afternoon we thought we should come and tell you."

"Ah yes," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "We are back to dreams again. Which is worrying because it means when you are unguarded, Harry, you are vulnerable. What makes you think that the laughter is connected with the dream?" He looked at Harry closely.

"I don't really know, Professor," Harry mumbled. "The man in my dream just, well, he looked happy. If he had laughed that is how I would imagine the sound of it." Harry glanced quickly at Maeve before continuing. "And he looked like Selene. I mean, he looked like Maeve."

Dumbledore frowned. He was mildly concerned that there was a presence in the castle that couldn't be immediately explained. Whatever, or whoever, it was didn't sound like a malignant force, but with things the way they were in the wider world, you could never be sure.

"Is there anything else I should know?" he asked, anxious to leave no stone unturned.

"There was something in my classroom yesterday," Maeve said. "At first I thought it was just a trick of the light or my imagination, but now it seems maybe I did actually seen something."

Dumbledore closed his eyes. He kept them closed for so long that Maeve and Harry thought he had gone to sleep. As they debated whether to attempt waking him or not his eyes slowly opened again.

"Sometimes it's better to think slowly and let the decisions make themselves," he said gently. "I think, perhaps, this is not someone who wishes you harm, but I do think you should be careful. There is always a reason for everything. There is a motive for this that we, as yet, aren't privy to. I want you to avoid being alone. Certainly do not leave the castle alone unless it's unavoidable. You must inform me if you see or hear anything else, especially you, Harry."

Dumbledore had every confidence that Maeve could look after herself, but despite the fact that Harry had already displayed a degree of courage and ability far beyond his years, Dumbledore still had reservations about his ability to withstand a concerted attack.

"I agree that this presence is not trying to harm us, Professor, on the contrary. Both Harry and I had the feeling that it was some sort of a protective force. We were having a conversation when the room lit up. I rather got the impression that whoever it was was happy with what we were saying." Maeve had been thinking about this since it happened. She remembered exactly what they had been saying; it was as if the presence was pleased they had resolved their differences. She explained this to Dumbledore who nodded as if he understood what this could mean.

"I think I shall have a talk with Firenze," he said. "This sounds like something he might interpret better than I could. Just be careful, both of you."

They knew this was a dismissal so they both stood to leave. As they reached the door Dumbledore asked them one final question.

"Does anyone else know about this?"

"No, Professor, we came straight to you," Maeve said quickly.

"Good, I think for now we should keep it that way. I wouldn't want the students to think the castle was that easy to penetrate, by good or dark forces."

The term progressed quickly, the school settling into a happy routine of sorts, although they still heard the occasional snippet of bad news from the outside world. It seemed the deaths of the two wizards had not been the start of a sudden onslaught, but they had prompted a campaign of whispers and unfounded rumours. This vicarious gossip was spreading fear and suspicion throughout the wizarding world. Lurid headlines screamed from the front page of _The Daily Prophet_, predicting dark deeds and planting kernels of discontent in the minds of many. The Ministry was being cautiously optimistic in tone, issuing pamphlets entitled "What every Witch and Wizard should know to protect themselves" and "How to distract Dementors".

Amelia Bones had been promoted by the Wizengamot from head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to Minister for Magic. She had brought some much needed calm and order at the Ministry although there were some who had resisted her appointment in the top role. Some felt she hadn't enough experience whilst other older, and more prejudiced wizards, thought that appointing a woman to lead the fight against Voldemort was a foolish mistake. Dumbledore had been the one who had fought most vociferously for her appointment. His arguments had been so convincing the motion had been passed unanimously despite the occasional uncharitable comment about her personal style.

Life still went on pretty much as normal though. Despite all the fears, there were no more murders. Azkaban remained secure because of the vast amount of Aurors and Hit-Wizards that had been deployed there, and of the Dementors, there was no sign. Voldemort was not sighted nor was the Dark Mark seen in the skies. By the time Halloween approached, the wizarding world had been lulled into a false sense of security that meant the leaflets issued by the Ministry were lost behind the mantelpieces of many homes. People ceased looking over their shoulders as they stopped expecting something disastrous to happen.

At Hogwarts, however, things were still very much on a war footing. Dumbledore was under no illusions. He knew that this quiet time was merely Voldemort gathering strength and numbers. He was pleased with the way Maeve had taken on Dumbledore's Army and helped Harry continue with his lead role. The students were gaining in confidence from the constant practice they received at the meetings and from the fact they felt they were actually doing something constructive. He was also pleased with the way Harry seemed to be maturing under Maeve's guidance. She had had a calming effect on most of the students, but Harry in particular had become much more patient and accepting of his position. There had also been a marked difference in Neville Longbottom's behaviour. Freed from the tyranny of Potions with Professor Snape, and with a new wand in hand, he had begun to lose some of the fearful nervousness that had previously dogged him. He had even been given a detention for placing a particularly good Jelly Legs Jinx on Goyle, much to the amusement of the other Gryffindors.

Maeve had settled well into her new role. She was enjoying teaching the students, who were for the most part a good bunch. She still struggled to give Malfoy unbiased attention, but somehow she managed it and there had been no repeat of the incident on the first day of term, although she was aware he still constantly sniped at Harry.

Two days before the Halloween Feast, she was teaching the sixth-years how to recognise and overcome a Kelpie down by the lake. This was causing a great deal of grumbling and shivering. It was late October, the water was freezing and they were standing around in swimming costumes. The Kelpie in question was a foaming, flailing horse, which pranced prettily through the water trying to lure them onto its back. Ron and Seamus were both in the water as Maeve showed them how to manoeuvre a bridle made from seaweed onto its head with the use of a particularly advanced Placement Charm. Ron was having trouble with the wording though and the bridle kept slipping down onto the Kelpie's back. On one occasion he had succeeded in placing it upside down on Seamus' head, which gave the rest of the class a moment's merriment.

Maeve had just waded into the water to help him out when there was a mighty commotion from Hagrid's hut. The sound of smashing crockery and splintering wood could be clearly heard. The students looked at each other in alarm, while Seamus and Ron quickly splashed to the side of the lake. Maeve immediately let the disgruntled Kelpie loose. It gave her a haughty toss of its mane as it disappeared below the water. She swam to the edge, emerging dripping wet with alarm on her face.

"Lavender and Parvati, please go fetch Professor Dumbledore at once," she said to the two girls. They stood shivering in their swimming costumes so were only too pleased at the excuse to escape the lesson. She flicked her wand; instantly the two students were dry and wearing their ordinary clothes as they pelted off towards the school. "The rest of you return to the changing rooms at once and get dressed. Do not under any circumstances approach Hagrid's hut."

Most of them looked at her as if she were mad to even think they would go within a mile of the violent noises; they were only too happy to run off at top speed. Maeve had already magically changed herself back into her ordinary robes and was striding across to the hut when she heard footsteps behind her. Harry was half running and half attempting to wave his wand over himself, which resulted in his swimming shorts turning into bright purple bloomers.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Maeve said. She snapped her wand at him, restoring him to normal clothes. "Harry, please go back to the castle right away."

"You shouldn't go alone," he argued.

"And you shouldn't come with me… go back."

His face took on a stubborn look and he shook his head.

"I'm coming with you," he said. There was such finality in his tone that she heaved her shoulders in a gesture of defeat and set off again in the direction of the hut.

The noises had abated somewhat, but they were alarmed to find the door was hanging from one hinge and looked in great danger of falling off. There was a quiet groaning coming from inside, and as Maeve peered cautiously into the gloom she could see the shuddering shoulders of a huge figure that had crammed itself into the hut. Harry gave a little gasp as he recognised the tattered clothes and round head of Hagrid's half-brother Grawp. Maeve made to step inside, but Harry put a hand on her arm.

"I really wouldn't if I were you," he warned her grimly. "I know exactly who that is and I don't think you're going to be too pleased."

She turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow as he shifted his feet around uncomfortably. He knew that he should have told Dumbledore about Grawp, but with Hagrid still gone and Grawp himself running off into the depths of the forest he hadn't seen the point. It would only have caused trouble for Hagrid. No one would have been able to find Grawp anyway. He knew that Maeve wasn't stupid and would be able to tell from the fact that the creature was filling the whole hut, even with its bent stature, that this was a giant, albeit a bit of a runty looking one.

"Well?" she asked. Her eyes suggested that Harry had better get on with it.

"It's a giant. He's called Grawp and he's… well he's… he's Hagrid's half brother." He couldn't meet her eyes because he didn't want to flinch at the anger that would be simmering there.

"Does Professor Dumbledore know about this?" she said sharply.

"Umm… not exactly."

"Not exactly or not at all?" she asked, her perception reducing Harry to a shamefaced child.

"Not at all," he said with his head down.

"So, a giant has been running round the school grounds." Her anger was bubbling up inside her, building up a good head of steam. "You knew about it and didn't think to inform Professor Dumbledore?"

"Hagrid would have got into trouble," he said. "And I did promise to look after him."

"Look after him!" she exclaimed, her voice rising and the tone getting sharper. "Harry, he is a giant… how on earth could you even think about looking after him?"

"I promised Hagrid," he said in a flat voice. He wished he had never made any such promise. Harry had already resolved in future to ask before making such rash declarations.

"Well, Hagrid should have had more sense than to ask you. Do Hermione and Ron know?" She lowered her voice, conscious that she may antagonise the upset giant.

Harry nodded and Maeve couldn't help tapping her foot in frustration. The low moaning had now shifted to gentle sobbing. The floor of the hut groaned in protest as the huddled, monstrous figure began to rock gently backwards and forwards, its head touching the walls as it did so, making anything that was unfortunate enough to be nailed to the wall sway alarmingly.

"I think he's lonely," she said with a touch of sympathy in her voice.

"You think he's lonely?" Harry's eyes rolled. "You're as bad as Hagrid. That thing's the most violent thing I have ever seen. You should see what he did to the forest when Hagrid had him tied up."

"I can imagine," she said wryly. Grawp raised his head as he heard their voices; slowly he lumbered to his feet, cracking the roof with his forehead as he tried to stand up fully. They both backed away from the door as he looked them up and down with eyes that were still watery from crying.

"Hagger?" he said pitifully, waving his arms hopelessly around the hut, sending pots and crockery flying in all directions. His breath fanned the small fire that burned in the grate and the sudden rush of flame almost set fire to the thatch. "Hagger?"

"He wants Hagrid," Harry whispered helpfully.

"I gathered that much," she replied, watching the creature scrutinising them. "But we haven't got 'Hagger', have we? What's he likely to do if he doesn't get what he wants?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said. "But I'll bet it's not pleasant."

"HERMY!" This time Grawp sounded a little happier, his sad face bursting into life. He was focusing on something behind them.

"Hermy, Grawp wants Hagger. Grawp sad."

Hermione had reached the hut having hurriedly changed, and was fully aware of what must have happened. She pushed past Maeve and Harry, walking straight up to the disconsolate Giant.

"Hermione!" Harry hissed at her. "What are you doing?" He clearly thought she had gone mad, but Maeve was watching in amazement as the Giant bent low and attempted to hug Hermione. This resulted in the girl being swallowed up by huge, tree-trunk thick arms.

"Hagrid isn't here, Grawp," she said clearly, in a very loud voice. "He will come back soon though." She glanced back at the other two and made shooing movements with her hand. Maeve pulled Harry away from the door with a whispered instruction to let Hermione get on with it. Harry had no intentions of letting Hermione get on with it alone and told her so in no uncertain terms.

"Harry, clearly she has built up some sort of relationship with Grawp since she has been back at school. He is displaying affection for her and for us to interfere at this stage might upset him," Maeve said insistently, but Harry wasn't at all convinced. He was about to go back in to the hut when Dumbledore appeared with Severus in tow.

Maeve quickly explained the situation in hushed tones. Dumbledore listened intently to the conversation that was going on inside the hut. Hermione had obviously spent some time with Grawp since returning to school because his vocabulary was expanding to include words such as friend, book and, strangely enough, homework.

"Are we going to stop this, Professor," Snape asked, "before the girl starts inviting him to classes?"

"Hmm, in a moment, Severus. It is quite remarkable to observe the friendship the young lady has managed to forge with such a wild creature. Of course, Hagrid was wrong to bring him here, but all the same… it is interesting, is it not?" Dumbledore looked quite excited by Hermione's control of Grawp. It reinforced his opinion that Hermione was one of the brightest students in the school, as well as having a level of intuition that could be quite startling.

Severus sighed, folding his arms across his chest in a vexed manner.

"Shall I escort Potter back to the school or do you need me here?" he asked brusquely.

"I'm not going anywhere," Harry protested. He resisted the temptation to add 'with you' to the end of the sentence.

"Silence, Potter. Just because you no longer take my class doesn't give you the excuse to speak out of turn." He shot a pointed look at Maeve, as if she had somehow stolen something from him by agreeing to teach Harry Potions. He had felt this was his chance to foil Harry's attempts at becoming an Auror yet somehow Harry had managed to obtain private tuition from someone as skilled in the subject as he was. It was intensely galling.

"You may all go," Dumbledore said calmly. "I think Miss Granger and I have this situation under control."

Both Harry and Maeve were about to open their mouths to protest, but Dumbledore held up a hand.

"Now, now. I think Miss Granger and I are more than capable of handling this delicate matter. Too many wizards spoil the potion and all that, so off you go." He was smiling, but they could see by the determined look in his eyes that he meant it. Reluctantly they turned away. Severus was already moving across the grass in long, steady strides, putting as much distance between himself and the situation as he could.

"Did you know Hermione was seeing Grawp?" Maeve asked Harry as soon as they were out of earshot of the hut.

"No, of course I didn't!" Harry said indignantly. Secretly he was very disappointed that Hermione hadn't let him in on the secret. It seemed to him that they might be growing apart a little and he wasn't sure why.

The wind suddenly whipped up leaves from the trees, blowing them across their path. The recent spell of rain had left the ground smelling of decay and rotting vegetation. It was worse on the edge of the forest, as if here not just the leaves were rotten. They followed the line of the trees, taking the opportunity to discuss the next meeting of D.A. and Harry also saw his chance to ask her some more questions about his mother. He did this frequently, which Maeve really didn't mind. It gave her great pleasure to discuss her school days and talk about Lily freely. Harry had been particularly interested in the circumstances that surrounded his mother's change in attitude to his father. Maeve had said pretty much the same as Remus had, that James had matured and Lily had finally seen that beneath the bravado there lay a heart forged from gold and steel with equal measure.

As they changed direction and walked across the grass a noise reached them that was seldom heard around Hogwarts. They both turned at the same time to see where it was coming from. Up the long drive came a large black motorcar, and they both stopped to watch its progress with fascination.

"Ministry of Magic?" Harry said questioningly.

Maeve peered at the number plates, which from this distance it was almost impossible to read. As the car came closer still she didn't need to read the plates to know where the car came from.

"Oh, Sizzling Snitches!" she breathed. "That's my father."

Harry looked at her in astonishment.

"Your father? How on earth does he know you are here?" Harry saw her face drain of colour and he was instantly anxious.

"He doesn't really. I think he must have just assumed I was." Maeve's brain was ticking over rapidly. What was he doing here and what did he want? She felt a heavy sense of foreboding in the air around her. The wind that had so recently started up blew harder, with a chill that, even for late October, was ferocious in its intensity. The car passed them and she just managed to glimpse the stony face of her father sitting in the back, muffled against the cold. It was only the briefest of glimpses, but she had the chance to see he looked older and more strained than he had on that painful day back in July.

"Will you see him?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. I suppose I should really," she said, watching as the car pulled up at the front doors. Maeve glanced up at the sky, wondering why the light had suddenly dimmed. Heavy, grey clouds were building and the air was being charged with prickling electricity. "We should get inside. There's a storm on the way."

As she voiced this suggestion the first heavy splashes of rain began to fall, so they picked up their feet and made a run for the entrance hall. They arrived just as a frozen-faced driver opened the car door. Maeve was aware that in her present form she would be able to gauge her father's mood and reason for his visit without being unmasked. With Harry by her side she stopped as the black-coated man stepped wearily from the car.

"Good afternoon," she said politely. He turned his frosty blue eyes to her, appraising her swiftly. Having decided she was not worth much effort he spoke crisply and was extremely economical with his words.

"I am here to see Professor Dumbledore. Tell him I have arrived."

"Is he expecting you?" she asked. She knew full well he probably wasn't, or she would surely have been the first to know.

"And what business is that of yours?"

The words and the tenor still had the power to hurt, despite the fact she was now a stranger to him. If anything it made it worse knowing that he spoke to a complete stranger in the same manner he had spoken to her, his own daughter, for most of her life.

"It is none of my business. However, politeness begs I ask the question. Professor Dumbledore is dealing with something right now, but I can call his assistant down for you."

"I don't want to speak with a minion. I want to speak with Dumbledore, and I want to speak with him now." Niall O'Malley was getting slightly pink about the jowls and felt anger beginning to rise. Why must he always encounter problems?

"You shouldn't speak to Professor Lupin like that," Harry said, leaping to her defence. He was well aware that she must be feeling fairly vulnerable at this unexpected meeting.

"It doesn't matter, Harry," she said soothingly. "Mr O'Malley, you are welcome to wait inside. Professor Dumbledore will be along shortly. I do not intend to stand here in the rain arguing with you."

"How do you know my name?" he snapped.

"I know a good many things. You would do well to remember that."

It was a bitter reminder of just how unpleasant her father could be. She wondered how she had put up with it for those years. Here at Hogwarts she felt herself filled with renewed power, a powerful recollection of the strength of her bloodline. It was strange that she felt her mother and grandmother's presence more strongly here than back at the home they had loved so much.

Niall didn't have the chance to respond as she swept up the steps and into the entrance hall with Harry in her wake. A fork of lightning tore through the sky as the thunder rolled in. It gave the afternoon a forbidding feeling that followed Maeve all the way to her rooms. Harry had left her reluctantly and headed for the Gryffindor common room, the end of her lesson having signified the end of classes for the day.

Ron was sitting by the fire with a chilled look about him and he, along with several others, was still whittering on about the afternoon's lesson.

"Bloody ridiculous!" Ron said as Harry plonked himself down in the chair nearest to him. "Shorts in the middle of winter. We'll all be full of a cold tomorrow I'll bet. There is no way I am missing Quidditch practice because of a stupid Kelpie."

"I thought the Kelpie was quite interesting," Harry said, only half listening to his friend's grumbling. "You just didn't like it because you couldn't get the bridle over its head. If you have a cold you can always go and get a Pepper-Up Potion from Madam Pomfrey."

"Have you tasted that stuff?" Ron asked in disgust.

"Aye, he was quick to get me with the bridle though," Seamus complained. Seamus was suffering the most and was sitting right on top of the fire with teeth that refused to stop chattering despite his now warm clothes and the roaring heat.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, trying to sound casual.

"We left her with Dumbledore," Harry said, nodding towards Seamus warningly. The young Irish boy was looking into the fire with longing and not really taking in what was going on around him. Harry didn't want to take any chances about him overhearing what he had to say about Grawp so he made something up. "Something about cleaning up Hagrid's hut. A fox had got in and messed the place up a bit." Harry gave Ron a staged wink.

"Ahh, right," Ron said with a smile. "Ermm, fancy a quick walk, Harry? I've got to pick up a book from the library."

Harry nodded and they both left the common room heading for the library. At least they could talk there without being overheard.

"So what was it?" Ron whispered as they sat across from each other at a table in the library. Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen, which meant they didn't need to even pretend to be working.

"Grawp," Harry said in hushed tones. "He was looking for Hagrid. Hermione has been seeing him since we got back to school. I think she's even been giving him homework."

"Bloody hell!" Ron said. "Poor Grawp, It's bad enough being in a strange place, alone and with no one who speaks your language... but having Hermione give you homework is a bit much." He shook his head sadly. "And why didn't she tell us?"

"I don't know why. He speaks a bit more of our language now so she must have been doing some good. Professor Dumbledore knows now anyway so maybe things will look up for Grawp," said Harry.

"It's just a pity Hagrid's not back," Ron said gloomily and they both frowned as they remembered the state Hagrid had been in when he finally returned last year.

The door opened quietly. They both turned, half expecting Madam Pince to come in and reprimand them for not working, but it was Hermione. She looked flushed and excited.

"What happened?" Harry and Ron asked in unison as she sat beside Harry with a grin on her face.

"It's all right," she said happily. "Professor Dumbledore got Professor Grubbly-Plank to come down and it turns out she can speak a little bit of Grawp's language. Anyway they calmed him down. He's been taken back into the forest. Professor Grubbly-Plank is going to get him a hut made. It will have to be considerably bigger than Hagrid's, of course. Then at least he will have a roof over his head while they decide what to do with him."

"Well, he can't stay here, can he?" Ron said.

"I don't think so. Hagrid will be so upset, but really, it's what's best for Grawp." Hermione looked quite sad at the thought of losing her first and only pupil.

"He should never have brought him here in the first place," Ron said with a snort. He felt they had suffered enough at the hands of some of Hagrid's creatures.

"Harry, what's the matter? You're very quiet," Hermione asked, turning her attention to her friend, who was sitting there looking very preoccupied.

"Nothing," he said nonchalantly. He was wondering what Maeve's father wanted. Harry couldn't drive away the thought that maybe he had come to take her back. He didn't think Niall could make her go back, but what if she wanted to go home? Maybe she was missing Ireland to the extent that she would happily get into that black car and disappear into the storm that had descended on the school. The only way he would know was to go and ask her, although he didn't want to disturb her if she was with her father. Despite the fact that Harry had become a little happier in the past month, he was still constantly worrying that people he cared for would be suddenly taken away from him. If Sirius, who was the closest thing he had had to a father, could be taken away then it could happen to anyone he loved.

Maeve wasn't thinking of leaving. The thought had never even entered her head. She was looking out across the lake from her bedroom window, watching as the lightning continued to fire vehement bolts of illumination at the ground. The wind had dropped to a low moaning, while the sun was sinking, leaving a gloomy darkness in its place. She was waiting for the knock that would surely come. It was as if she was falling down a dark well: she knew the sickening bump would come, she just didn't know when. Her father wanted something, of that she was sure. She just couldn't imagine what that something would be. Unable to settle to anything, she wondered if she ought to go and find Dumbledore, who would doubtless be with her father. Her deliberations were brought to an end by a knock at the door and her stomach felt as if it had fallen to her knees. She went across, opening the door to reveal Professor Dumbledore, who wore a grave look on his face and carried a piece of parchment in his hand.

"My dear Maeve," he said, after he had firmly closed the door behind him. "I'm afraid your father is here."

"I know," she said. "I met him earlier. What does he want?" She searched Dumbledore's face for some sign of the nature of the visit, but he regarded her steadily, giving little away via his eyes.

"It is an issue with the house," he sighed and waved his hand at the sofa. "Perhaps we should sit down."

"The house?" she queried, sitting opposite him and leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "What's wrong with the house?"

"He wants it," Dumbledore said simply.

"But it's his anyway," she said.

"No, Maeve, it is not; it's yours. When your mother died she left a very comprehensive will. She bequeathed everything to you, including the house." He waited for this to sink in before continuing. "He has decided that, because you have left, he has the right to claim the house. I would, of course, advise against this, but he has brought a legal document for you to sign." Dumbledore handed her the parchment and she glanced at the paper quickly. It was a complicated-looking thing, but she caught the gist of it. It meant that by signing it she would completely give up any rights to her family home. Maeve wasn't sure she wanted to keep the house anyway and this thought surprised her. After her earlier thoughts about feeling her mother's presence here she had begun to realise that loved-ones were not contained in bricks and mortar, but deep inside oneself. She carried her mother and grandmother in her heart, not in a piece of land and a rambling house in Ireland.

"He can have it," she said quietly.

"Be very careful about making this decision too rashly, Maeve," Dumbledore said with disquiet in his voice. "He does not deserve this gesture. You need to think of your own security."

"But I don't need it. I have enough money in my account at Gringotts and I have work. I'm not sure I will ever go back."

There came the sound of running feet outside in the corridor, and the door was suddenly flung open to reveal the triumphant figure of her father. He was panting from the sudden exertion, leaning against the doorframe briefly to recover himself.

"So, you know where she is!" he said sharply to Maeve, who was still sitting holding the parchment. "I want to know. I need that house and I haven't the time for messages to be bandied about." He came into the room just as a breathless Percy arrived with Severus in hot pursuit.

"I am so sorry, Professor," Percy said to Dumbledore with a tremor in his voice. "I didn't know he wasn't to know where you were. I assumed you had set up a meeting." He was wringing his hands with a terrified expression on his face at the possibility of receiving a reprimand.

"No matter, Percy." Dumbledore looked benignly at his assistant. "You may go."

"Are you sure you wouldn't like me to do anyt…" he began, but Severus cut him off.

"You heard the headmaster, Weasley," he hissed, his voice dripping with dislike. "I think you have done enough damage tonight, don't you?"

Percy wilted under Severus' icy glare, looking quickly at Professor Dumbledore before scurrying from the room. Severus closed the door and remained in the room, watching Niall and Maeve warily. He looked more concerned about this than perhaps was to be expected.

Niall meanwhile had taken in the fact that a person he didn't know was sitting there holding the parchment that granted him the rights to Abbeylara. Niall was not completely stupid. He took a step closer to Maeve and looked her in the eyes, immediately recognising that longing look, a look that ached for recognition and love, something he was incapable of providing. In that instant he knew what was going on.

"It's you, isn't it?" he said accusingly.

"NO!" Severus stepped between Niall and Maeve, who was still sitting. "Whatever you are thinking, O'Malley, this isn't it." All the contempt and hatred Severus felt for the man that had been instrumental in ruining his life was threatening to explode into violent action.

"I think it is," he insisted.

"Leave her alone." Severus drew his wand and pointed it directly in the man's face. "You would be a fool to pursue this."

Maeve was suddenly tired. She didn't want the house, she didn't care if her father knew the truth, and she wasn't interested in Severus' histrionics. Standing up, she placed a hand on Severus' shoulder, which made him shiver involuntarily.

"Thank you," she said. Severus turned to look into her eyes. "Thank you, Severus, for your protection. He is my father though, and he should know."

She twitched her face. The transformation was instant, gone was the mousy hair and dull eyes. In its place stood Maeve O'Malley.

In the stunned silence Severus' low moan was clearly audible. No one guessed what it meant, or why he stood at Maeve's shoulder like some dark presence as she swiftly signed her name to the document before her and thrust it into the hands of Niall O'Malley. No one knew the thoughts that whirled around in his head; no one could possibly have guessed that Severus knew this was the beginning of the end.


	11. The Daughter of Light

On the evening of the eagerly anticipated Halloween feast there were several people in the castle who weren't as happy as they should have been. Maeve was glad her father had left, but the fact she had handed over her house to him was causing her to brood. She was glad he had gone. His sudden departure, immediately after snatching the signed document from her hand and without even saying goodbye, hadn't been a surprise. However, his reasons for wanting the house officially signed over to him were now causing her some concern. She didn't want to admit to herself that she had made a rash decision in blithely giving up Abbeylara, but the possibility that she had been wrong to do so was now insinuating itself into her brain.

Severus Snape was also deeply unhappy, although for most people it was hard to tell that there was any change in his mental state. As soon as Niall O'Malley had left, he had pursued Professor Dumbledore to his office to try and warn him of the problems this new development could cause. He had left believing his cautionary words had fallen on deaf ears because Dumbledore had merely given him some noncommittal reassurances.

Dumbledore, however, was already well aware of the potential harm Maeve may have done by revealing herself to her father. He did not trust Niall O'Malley, whom he had always found to be a selfish and unreliable man. What Dumbledore did not have was Severus' level of knowledge after many years spent working for the Dark Lord.

Harry on the other hand was very happy; Maeve's father had gone, leaving Maeve still very much entrenched at Hogwarts, and although she had been very vague about the reasons for his visit, he got the impression that it had gone quite well. With his fears for her sudden departure temporarily eased, he felt he could look forward to the Halloween feast with enthusiasm, despite the fact Dumbledore had decreed that this year it was to be a fancy dress event.

He had deliberated with Ron for weeks over their costumes. Harry finally decided to go as Sir Gravallax Whippingham, a famed dragon slayer from the sixteenth century. Sir Gravallax was well known for his shining solid-silver armour so Harry had persuaded one of the suits of armour that lined the castle walls to let him borrow it for the party. Ron had decided to go as one of his favourite players from the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team. It meant he could just wear his team's strip and not have to worry too much about buying a costume, which some of the other students were doing.

The Great Hall was festooned with decorations. Silvery cobwebs were draped from the high, wooden beams, and enormous pumpkins leered cheerfully at the students, with flickering lights illuminating their carved faces. The tables groaned under the weight of a vast amount of food, which included some rare treats especially concocted for Halloween. Ron was particularly fascinated with the Gummy Mummies, which were little cakes covered in edible bandages that oozed a sweet red substance when you bit into them. He soon discovered he had to be very quick eating them or the red goo would set his teeth fast together.

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown waltzed in wearing flowing white robes, their skin dusted with a shimmering white powder. The horns they each wore, which were very pretty, although they did wobble alarmingly whenever the girls moved too quickly, gave away the fact they were unicorns. Neville wore a big shaggy brown coat that had something long and moth-eaten trailing behind it; no one had the courage to ask him exactly what he was meant to be. There were several nurse's uniforms; some people came in clothes that their parents had dug out of musty attics, insisting they were 'classics of their time'. Some wore Muggle outfits that included policemen and the odd cricketer. There were fairies and elves, kings and queens, and one particularly brave girl came as a cat in a sleek black catsuit with two black pointy ears stuck to her head. Unsurprisingly, she was particularly popular with the boys.

The teachers entered into the spirit of things with Professor Dumbledore dressed as Merlin, although most people couldn't really see the difference between Merlin and Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall also dressed as a cat, albeit a rather more bedraggled one than the catsuited girl. Professor Sprout came as a sprout. Professor Grubbly-Plank was a very convincing mermaid, although she kept tripping up over her tail. Madam Pomfrey came as Florence Nightingale, although she spent most of the evening explaining to people who Florence Nightingale was. Professor Snape turned up as Professor Snape and snarled at anyone foolish enough to comment on his lack of costume. It was bad enough he felt obliged to be here to keep an eye on Maeve, without making a fool of himself in some ridiculous costume.

Maeve was one of the last to enter, and she glided between the students to take her place at the head table. This was her first opportunity to be frivolous with her appearance so she had really pushed the proverbial boat out. She wore a dress of pure white silk that was covered in enchanted icicles, which tinkled sweetly whenever she moved, but didn't melt. She had changed the colour of her hair to jet back. It tumbled down her back with tiny snowflakes clinging to it, and around her head was a wreath of ivy flecked with sparkling diamonds. Wrapped around her neck she wore a scarf of soft silver chiffon that wound around and down her back. There were murmurs of appreciation from Professor Flitwick, who for some reason had come as a lobster, as she passed him to take her place.

One of the last to enter the hall was Draco Malfoy, who caused a few open mouths as he walked in wearing a long black cloak and carrying a scythe. Crabbe and Goyle were in their usual places at either side of him wearing similar black cloaks and stupid expressions on their faces. Maeve glanced at Severus and could see his lips forming a small smile, when he caught her looking his smile grew even wider.

"Effective, isn't it?" he sneered.

"Effective if you want to spread a little dread and fear," she retorted. "Although in that respect it's not nearly as effective as your costume."

"I don't indulge myself in this sort of nonsense," he said calmly, ignoring the challenge in her eyes.

The feast went very well and there were several over-stuffed students by the time Dumbledore stood up to clear his throat.

"I hope you enjoyed your repast," he said with a small belch. "You all look splendid and I thank you for entering into the spirit of things. If you would care to step away from your tables then we can clear them and make way for the entertainment, which this year will be provided by The Dark Deeds."

There was a general shuffling of feet as the students stepped away from their tables. They watched, entranced, as benches dissolved into thin air to be replaced by a stage. A band of dark-haired musicians materialised and immediately began to play a lively song that had everyone dancing, including Death.

The teachers looked vaguely embarrassed at this point; aware they should be taking part, but not wanting to make themselves look foolish. Professor Sprout immediately latched on to Dumbledore, who seemed to find dancing with a small, green vegetable very enjoyable. Professor McGonagall demurred when Professor Flitwick offered a claw, so he turned to Maeve. She was resigning herself to spending the evening in the company of a lobster when she felt her hand taken by something definitely un-claw like. She barely had time to register the self-sacrificing look on Severus' face, as he stepped between her and Flitwick, before she was on the dance floor.

Students and teachers alike moved to the heady beat of the band. The dimmed lights added an intimacy that was not normally to be found within the school. Death was dancing with cat girl, much to the dismay of Pansy Parkinson, whose Cleopatra outfit obviously wasn't cutting it with Draco. Vincent Crabbe had made several attempts to grab her asp, but Pansy wasn't having any of it.

Maeve was confused by Severus' sudden decision to take to the dance floor; it seemed completely at odds with his recent attitude to her. His dancing left a lot to be desired as he moved stiffly to the music. She tried to move in sequence with him, but his movement was so stilted it was difficult for her to find any rhythm. The intense look in his eyes was unsettling her even more than the uneven dancing. As one song came to an end, another started. so he took the opportunity to steer her away from the dance floor and the pressing crowd of people.

"Have you thought about what happened yesterday?" he asked, manoeuvring her through the large doors of the Great Hall and into the quieter space beyond it.

"If you mean my father then yes, I have," she said, following him outside. The air was crisp and clear, immediately reviving her flagging spirits; the atmosphere in the Great Hall had become warm and oppressive.

"And do you think you made the wisest choice?"

"I do confess that perhaps handing him the house without question may have been a little rash." She gave a shrug. "But really, I don't think it matters too much. I don't care for the house. He could burn it down for all the difference it would make to me."

Severus frowned, looking out across the lake towards the distant mountains.

"I wasn't thinking about the house," he said quietly. "I was more concerned that you had revealed your whereabouts to him."

Maeve looked surprised; she hadn't even given that a second thought. She couldn't imagine what problems telling her father where she was could cause, so she didn't understand why Severus was worrying about it.

"Dad may be an absolute pig, but I think my secret is safe with him. What makes you think otherwise?" She looked at him questioningly, frustrated by his refusal to talk directly to her.

"You trust people too easily," he said. Severus continued to look out at the water, not noticing the fact she was shivering.

"He's my father," she said, as if this placed him above suspicion. "Surely, no matter how he behaves towards me, he would do nothing to cause me harm."

"Sometimes things are not what they seem," Severus said cryptically. He turned his attention directly back to her and in his cavernous, black eyes she could register something lurking, something that he was about to reveal.

What it was though she didn't find out because at that moment a piercing scream came from the direction of Hagrid's hut. The night air was abruptly filled with fright.

"It's that bloody giant again!" Severus spat. He turned, rushing off in the direction of the hut that sat at the edge of the forest.

"I don't think so," Maeve said as she hurried to match his long stride across the grass. "Professor Grubbly-Plank has moved him back into the forest."

"And you don't think the beast can escape?" he queried, although from the tone of his voice she knew he thought it was entirely possible.

A flash of light from the edge of the forest made them look up. At first Maeve thought it was the beginnings of a firework display. Green sparks soared skywards and began to flare brightly as they formed themselves into an image that branded the inky blackness with a sight that made Severus stop dead in his tracks. Maeve looked on in horror at the giant serpent's tongue that protruded from the mouth of the huge skull, which was now illuminating the night with a sickly, greenish light.

Neither of them needed to comment on it for they both knew well enough what it was.

"We need to get you back to the castle now," Severus said steadily. Nothing about him betrayed the swift dread he felt.

"There was a scream," she protested. "Someone is in trouble."

"You are more important than anything else at the moment," he said, taking her bare arm and attempting to turn her direction.

"No, no I'm not. There is a student in trouble, Severus. We can't run and hide." She flung his arm away. In the darkness she did not see the imprints his fingers had left upon her flesh. Maeve picked up her skirts and began to run towards the hut, leaving Severus unsure of what to do.

"You don't even know if it was a real student," he shouted after her. "It could be a ruse."

He knew he had no option but to follow the running figure, despite the imminent danger he felt they both faced. He caught up to her quickly enough by breaking into a light jog, his breath coming in exasperated bursts. They both had their wands out as they approached the entrance to Hagrid's hut. The door had been put back on its hinges and was now standing open. Slumped on the steps was a very distressed-looking girl whose pretty fairy costume was now grubby. Her wings had come undone and were lying broken at her feet.

"Verity!" Maeve said, recognising one of the third-year Ravenclaw students. "What happened?"

Verity Harris was too petrified to answer her, however she did raise a limp arm and pointed in the direction of the forest.

"Really, girl! Is that the best you can do?" Severus asked sharply.

The frightened girl raised her eyes to meet those of the Potions master. He knew what she had seen. There was a look there that only those who had faced a Death Eater have.

"Whom did they take?" he asked, displaying an understanding that momentarily surprised Maeve.

"Simon," she said in such a low moan that they had to ask her to repeat it. "Simon Hirst," she said. Her voice grew stronger. "They didn't take him, though, he went with them. I fell over and asked Simon to wait for me. I wanted to go with them, Professor Lupin."

Maeve looked at her in astonishment.

"You _wanted_ to go with them?" she repeated. "Verity, surely you realised who they were."

Verity nodded mutely before beginning to cry into her hands.

"Imperius Curse," Severus said softly in Maeve's ear. "It had to happen. They can't enter the grounds, but they can act through others. This is a warning."

Maeve helped the trembling girl up as the sounds of several pairs of feet could be heard approaching. Both Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall appeared with serious expressions on their faces. Minerva immediately took the young Ravenclaw student from Maeve, her arms supporting the girl as she staggered in the darkness. The Dark Mark still glittered ominously above them as Verity was led away. Professor Dumbledore turned to Maeve and Severus for their story of the events leading up to the Dark Mark's appearance. His face grew very sombre as he was told about Simon Hirst, and his gaze drifted reluctantly to the Forbidden Forest.

"We will need to find him and quickly," he said, as the trees rustled in the soft breeze. From somewhere came the sound of a twig breaking and they were all instantly alert. An owl hooted as the pale moon disappeared behind a bank of clouds. Maeve felt her skin grow clammy with fear. The hoot came again, followed by a loud whine from the forest.

"We have to go in," she said to Dumbledore with reluctance in her voice.

"We cannot!" Severus' voice was rough.

"Severus?" Professor Dumbledore knew his Potions master had many faults, but cowardice had never been amongst them.

"We have no idea what the Dark Lord knows," he said, looking at Maeve. "We have no idea to what lengths he will go."

"We have always known the lengths Voldemort will stretch to, Severus." Dumbledore looked puzzled. He fixed Severus with such a stare that Maeve knew he was trying to peel back the layers of the other man's mind. From the corner of her eyes she caught a flash of light and when she turned she was sure she had seen Simon's face, thrown into sharp relief by the sudden reappearance of the moon. Without wavering she dashed into the forest in pursuit of the phantom she had glimpsed. Dumbledore and Severus gave cries of alarm before following her.

She tripped and stumbled over her dress as she tried to negotiate the undergrowth. Ahead of her she could hear the crashing sounds of something being pursued, which seemed to indicate she was going in the right direction. Severus was calling out to her to wait, but she pressed on regardless. The dark, dank smell of the forest was in her nostrils, filling her lungs with decay. The trees stood by in resolute silence as she caught her flesh on their branches. The fabric of her skirt tore on their rough bark, silk strips clinging to the woody surface. She stopped short when she reached a clearing that was empty save for a bonfire burning brightly in the centre of it. Orange flames licked hungrily upwards, sending sparks flying off in all directions. A thick, acrid smoke filled the forest, swirling around the naked branches and penetrating the undergrowth with its noxious fingers.

As she stepped further into the clearing she could hear low laughter. Whirling around quickly she tried to detect its source. This was not the warm laughter that had spilled into her room that night; it was a coarse wail of a laugh that filled her ears with horror. Her eyes caught the sudden movement from the other side of the fire, her mind not fast enough to react. She watched as Simon's frightened figure was thrust into the clearing. A green flash of light erupted at the same time as a huge thundering sound came from the trees beside her. In the confusion she didn't know what it was that finally knocked her over, the green streak that flew across the fire or the white wall that came from nowhere.

Maeve drowsed and was only vaguely aware of movement around her. Occasionally she heard a voice, but it seemed to come from far away and was entirely disconnected from her. Her mind played games with light and shade as it tried to make sense of what had happened to it. It could not connect the disembodiment it felt to anything sentient, so she remained floating somewhere between this world and the next.

Severus had stayed on the ward for three weeks, refusing to leave, much to Madam Pomfrey's chagrin. He had been the one to pull her body from beneath the unicorn. He had brought her back to the castle and he had been reluctant to let go ever since, despite repeated pleas from Professor Dumbledore that the students needed him. He had watched her closely. There had been no movement, no flicker of life beyond the steady yet almost imperceptible pulse that beat just beneath her temple.

The time alone had given him the time, and the mental space, to examine his feelings for her. He had tried to come up with many, logical, reasons for his refusal to leave her side and he had failed. Things that happen in the past are often sent to extract a heavy payment and he felt that this was the debt collector's moment to call. He allowed himself the luxury of travelling back down the roads that had already been heavily worn with the wheels of their lives. It did not make him happy to take this journey; indeed it was painful in the extreme. He could see her youth-drenched figure laughing gaily in the shadows of his mind and he wanted to bottle that carefree spirit and release it into the present gloom. He did not want the unbearable pressure of the missing years; he wanted everything to be as it had been before, before what?

Before she had even entered his life? No, life without ever having met her would be too bland, too sterile. Before her father had removed her from school? Probably. Without that first separation, life could have been as normal as it was possible to be. He was almost certain he would not have joined the Dark Lord's army of followers. Before the day that he had betrayed the Dark Lord by saving her life? No, the uncertainty and loss had been on a par with what it was now. The fact was he couldn't return to anywhere; he had to deal with what was and what would be. Severus Snape wasn't sure he was man enough to battle for her all over again.

He had returned time and time again to the events in the forest that had led to this situation. Neither he nor Dumbledore knew where the unicorn had come from. They had reached the clearing just as the hooded figure beyond the fire had shouted _Avada Kedavra_. With a sickening lurch, both of them had known it was too late to do anything to prevent the green light from hitting its target. The swift white flash that broken through the trees had surprised them all. It had thrown itself between Maeve and the curse, but some of the Dark magic had penetrated through the body of the unicorn and into Maeve. Both of them had fallen in an entwined heap on the forest floor. It was a distraught Dumbledore who had lifted the heavy carcass of the dead unicorn to free the body of Maeve O'Malley.

Almost a month on and the school still went on around her. It was as if she had become the sun around which bewildered planets orbit. Her lessons had been taken over by the surprising presence of Remus Lupin. Reassuring the parents had been a miraculous piece of diplomacy by Professor Dumbledore, helped by the fact that Remus was supposed to be the stricken teacher's brother. Harry had tried to visit her, but Severus had prevented him, and this make the antagonism between them even worse. His moods had sunk into deep melancholy. Neither Hermione nor Ron could rouse him to anything other than the occasional, reluctant Quidditch practice. As November moved into December the first snows fell. The mood in the school was still sombre; no one was looking forward to Christmas, no one except for Simon Hirst, who really shouldn't have been alive to see it. He had been left in the clearing in a befuddled state. Maeve's deathlike presence was permeating every fibre of the school, leaving a thick, unrelenting frost over every surface.

Severus was spending another night sleeping in the bed adjacent to Maeve's. The intensity of his vigil was undiminished by time, his guilt still sharp and fresh. It was just past midnight when he stirred from his sleep. Light had slowly begun to fill the ward, heralding a new dawn. He glanced at the clock, sure that he had not been asleep for very long, and discovered it was only a little before one o'clock in the morning. He was immediately out of bed, looking around for the source of the light, aware that something was amiss. The doors at the end of the ward opened slowly. Without a sound the tall, radiant figure of a man entered, and Severus Snape knew exactly who he was and why he was here. He felt immensely relieved and not a little anxious.

"You knew, didn't you?" the newcomer asked with a sad smile.

"Yes, I knew," Severus replied, unable to take his eyes from the glorious countenance of Maeve O'Malley's true father.

"And yet you never told her, or others."

"No, it would not have been in her best interests," Severus said, adamant that he had made the right choice.

"You were right, she should never have known," he said sorrowfully. "She was too impulsive. She had so much love to give and yet she spent so much time alone."

"You speak of her as if she is dead." Severus was dismayed that the one person he had thought could save her was admitting defeat. "She is not dead."

"She is dead, Severus." The words were like a mortal blow to his body, and Severus' shoulders slumped.

The golden man moved past the disbelieving Severus to stand at the head of his daughter's bed. The expression he wore was a mixture of sorrow and pride as he took in her shallow breathing and pale face. Vexation crossed his face as he looked at her dull hair and unfamiliar form. Passing a hand across her body, he transformed her from Selene Lupin back to Maeve O'Malley, smiling softly at the result.

"She is beautiful," he stated, the simple words spoken with love. Severus nodded mutely. He knew if this man said she was dead, then she was dead and grief threatened to punish him once more. He had done so much to ensure her survival, risked his own life to keep her alive, and here they were, at the brink of failure.

"You loved her?" her father asked.

"I do love her." Severus was firm in his reply. The strangeness of the situation made the admission seem easier for him to make.

"It is a rare thing, love. Love that knows no bounds. Love that places no limit on sacrifice. Love that endures darkness in pursuit of the light." He turned back to Severus. "Love that reaches beyond the bounds of death and into the next world. Would your love for my daughter take you into the next world, Mr Snape?"

"It would." Severus sank onto his bed in sorrow. Was this Immortal asking for the ultimate sacrifice in return for his daughter's life? "If I need to die to save her then so be it."

Severus glanced up, seeing satisfaction in the other man's eyes. It was as if he had confirmed something important and necessary. Severus had kept his secret well. Lugh Lamfada was a force beyond his experience and knowledge. As Lugh surveyed him with something bordering on respect, Severus felt a sense of achievement that he never felt under Voldemort's command. Lugh once again smiled, the warmth that radiated from his presence filling Severus with a longing he had always felt, although he had done his best not to recognise it. It was the longing for love and acceptance that had only once been fulfilled.

"Leave us," Lugh asked suddenly and in such a compassionate voice that Severus stood immediately. He was prepared to obey the order, but before he left he had one last thing to do.

"May I have one moment with her?" he asked.

"You may. However, I will not leave." Lugh smiled.

Severus approached Maeve's powerless figure. He reached out a hand that shook only slightly to touch her cheek. Her skin felt cold and his heart was a lead coffin inside his chest, their love lying inside it on soft cushions of sorrow. He bent close to her and placed a soft kiss on her mouth. Moving his lips to her ear he whispered a gentle goodbye before straightening up and looking the other man in the eye.

"It was a privilege to know your daughter," he said. "She saved me from a fate that I would not have wished on my worst enemy, and she did so with the purity of her heart."

Lugh nodded, as if this was the most understandable thing he had heard in a long time.

With one last look at Maeve's still form, Severus turned and left her to her father. He had no idea what Lugh Lamfada would do with his daughter, but he was fairly sure her body would not be there in the morning. He knew enough to realise that the immortal God of the Sun would take his daughter back with him to Ireland and to wherever it was he existed. Severus couldn't help envy her this fate. In many ways he wished he was going with her. As he closed the door behind him he felt his vision blur with moisture and he made his way blindly to his rooms.

Lugh Lamfada stood and watched his daughter's lifeless and anchorless body. He had been slightly dishonest with Severus Snape and he was already feeling somewhat guilty about that. He knew his daughter had loved the man since the first time they had met, and that that feeling had been reciprocated. It was a meeting of minds that had vexed his fellow Gods and one that they had tried to sever on occasion. Lugh knew, however, that whilst their paths would diverge frequently, they would always find their way home. Despite this he had still found the need to test Severus by offering him the chance to take his daughter's place beyond the veil, and Severus had passed the test.

Lugh once again passed a hand over his daughter's face, gold-hued fingers not quite touching the delicate complexion. A quiver travelled down her body and a small sigh escaped her lips as her eyes slowly opened to the light. She watched the face of the stranger slowly come into focus and struggled to sit up. She had no memory of the past and no concept of the future as she gazed into the golden eyes of the man who was slowly drawing her away from the veil.

"Hello, Child," he said as he watched her struggling to make sense of herself. "You have been on a peaceful journey and you have found your destination."

She shook her head to clear the mist from her mind. She found that in doing so shafts of knowledge began to pierce her perplexed brain.

"Who are you?" she asked softly.

"I am your father, Maeve, your true father."

"That cannot be," she said, disbelieving.

"It can and it is." He paused before launching into a simple explanation. "I was charged with the duty of producing three daughters in order to fight the darkness that was to come. Who better to fight the dark than the light?" He allowed himself a small laugh.

"Three daughters?" She swung her unsteady legs off the bed.

"You were the first and most important. You are the power behind the prophecy, thanks to your mother."

"My mother? How?" The fact that this creature might be her father was only just beginning to sink in and it was threatening to overwhelm her. If he was her father, who exactly was he and what did that make her?

"I am Lugh Lamfada," he said, as if reading her mind. He watched as this information touched her. He did not need to explain to her his significance. She was well versed in the history of Ireland and his importance to its people. He was immortal. He was of the race above men and he had powers beyond their knowledge. What he should not have done was interfere in his daughter's battle with life and death. He had no idea what the consequences of this would be, but he knew she had to be saved.

She paused for a moment as the shuddering knowledge of who she was travelled the length of her being and then she spoke again.

"Who are the others? You said there were three daughters."

"There were, Lily Evans was the daughter charged with producing the one to defeat the darkness, and Alice McKinnon was the one charged with producing the one to guard him."

Maeve's head began to spin. Lily had been her sister. Lily had been her best friend. Lily had produced Harry. Harry was her nephew!

"No," Lugh smiled at her thoughts. "You are related, but not in a way humans would understand. You are all my children, but not in a physical sense. All three of you are, were, my children in a realm beyond the human world. I flow through your soul, not your blood."

"And my father?" she asked hesitantly.

"Is not your father. There is none of his blood flowing through your veins. He betrayed you to the darkness and caused the attack that killed you. The darkness can never understand immortality, although it repeatedly tries to by stealing it, manipulating it and bargaining for it." Lugh rolled his eyes and the sight of an exasperated God mocking the fallibilities of those that strove to achieve a Godlike status momentarily amused Maeve.

"Harry does not know, neither does Neville," she said. It was a statement rather than a question. Alice McKinnon had also been at school at the same time she had, although she hadn't known her very well. She had married Frank Longbottom at around the same time as Lily had married James.

"No, neither of them knows. They should not be told. It is a shame that you know. Severus Snape did a marvellous job keeping that knowledge to himself. Knowledge that he gained through the darkness."

"Severus knew?" She stared at her father in astonishment and had to bite back the bitterness that threatened her. How could Severus keep that from her? He had allowed her to be indebted to man she need never have tolerated.

"Yes, he knew. Do not blame him for the secrets he kept. Trust none but him Maeve, for he alone will sacrifice his life for yours." He spoke with such conviction that she swallowed her indignation at the fact Severus knew her parentage whilst she did not.

"How did he know?" she asked in a very small voice.

"He knew many things from his time with Tom Riddle, many things heard and then unheard. That is what a spy does, is it not?"

"He could have told me," she said, although the fire was gone from her anger and the words drifted to the floor to take their place among the dust.

"I have to go, child," he said softly. "I should not even be here, but without my intervention you would have died tonight. There will be consequences because of my actions, although I hope that the benefits will outweigh any harm it may have done."

She faced her father, their eyes reflecting each other. Fire burned within each of them and she felt such relief that the man she had called father all her life was of no connection to her. She felt anger that he had betrayed her. Above all else, though, she felt love for the man that stood before her with warmth radiating from every aspect.

"It was you, wasn't it, that day in my room?" she asked suddenly. "You laughed. You also appeared to Harry in a dream."

"I couldn't hold back my joy," he said apologetically. "You and Harry resolved your differences and it gave fate an easier time. Be a friend to that boy and, more importantly, be an ally. He needs it now, for his future is very uncertain. All of your futures are very uncertain."

"I understand. Can I contact you again?" She knew the connection was about to be lost and was eager to prolong it.

"No, you cannot, but I am always with you, always. I cannot intervene in your life again, so you must be careful. Do not lose that heart which beats so strongly. Mind Severus and mind Harry for they are more important to you than life itself and, above all, never hide yourself away again. You are a daughter of the light and must never let the darkness overcome you. Goodbye, my child."

He spread his arms wide and for a wonderful moment he felt the rare pleasure of enveloping his daughter in his arms. Maeve experienced a warmth the like of which she had never felt before. He broke away and reached for her face with a fading hand.

"Never again hide your true self, Maeve. Cast off this lie and be yourself."

There was a flare of light that filled the ward and then he was gone. His brightness was replaced with the dull ache of moonlight and an emptiness that threatened to overwhelm her.


	12. Resurrection and Revolt

Some time before dawn, Maeve awoke and could hear vague movements in the corridors as the school came to life. She couldn't make out much in the dim light that surrounded her, but she could see the outline of a figure sitting on the bed next to hers so she tried to focus. As she struggled to recognise the shadow, it moved, as if aware that she was struggling back to life.

"Maeve, my dear." The voice was mellow and comforting. She immediately recognised the compassionate tone of the headmaster. "I hear you have had a visitor."

"How did you know?" she asked through the gloom.

"Severus came and spoke to me during the night. He told me everything he knew," Dumbledore replied. He took out his wand, flicking it at the candle that stood by her bed. Instantly they were surrounded by a guttering glow that flecked her hair with gold, illuminating her tired face, Dumbledore was still half in shadow, but she could see that his face bore a sombre expression.

"Severus seemed to know a lot that no one else did," she said.

"He did, and he kept his own counsel for all the right reasons, Maeve. I am sure your father will have told you this himself. Severus carried a burden around with him for a long time, one he could easily have shared, and yet he didn't." She could hear admiration, tinged with a touch of regret, in Dumbledore's voice.

"Surely I had the right to know. I suffered with my…" Maeve hesitated. She had been about to say 'my father' when she realised she no longer had to call him that. "With that man, and I didn't need to."

"No, however, Niall did keep you safe for many years when he could easily have handed you over to Voldemort. As it was he waited until you were here, and until he had the deeds to Abbeylara within his grasp. Had you been attacked at Abbeylara I don't think we could have saved you."

"My father saved me," she said, allowing a touch of irritability to creep into her voice.

"I appreciate that," Dumbledore said, not knowing what else to say to appease her bruised spirit. "Who can say why the gods act when and where they act. They are a race unto themselves, and we are not always aware of their reasons for behaving as they do."

She looked a little satisfied with this, although the loss of those years was still a raw wound, one that she had to force herself to stop picking at. The thought that people knew, yet still allowed her to go through that, was one she couldn't yet face with any degree of clarity or understanding.

"And I share my real father with Lily and Alice," she said in a slightly incredulous voice. She had changed the subject assuming that Dumbledore knew; his surprised expression told her that she was wrong.

"Lugh Lamfada was Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom's father too?" Dumbledore asked quickly, his eyes glittering behind the lenses of his glasses as his mind began to calculate the implications of this news.

"Yes," she nodded. "Did Severus not know that?"

"No, he most certainly did not. Well, well." Dumbledore sat back and exhaled slowly. "I am not sure what to make of this information. You have a connection to all of them, including young Harry and Neville."

Maeve told him the little her father had passed on to her, the reason he had fathered the three girls. Dumbledore looked even more surprised as the story took shape. He stood up, slowly pacing up and down the ward, making Maeve feel very uneasy indeed.

"You realise that I must now keep you and Harry close, and Neville, what is Neville's true role in all of this?" He stopped abruptly, pondering aloud. "And you are the power behind Harry, what can that imply?"

"I don't know," she said with a quick shake of her head. "I am having a difficult enough time just putting all these pieces together in my mind without worrying about Voldemort and who has the power to defeat him."

"I am sorry," he said, as if realising for the first time how confused she must be. "Perhaps once Madam Pomfrey has had a look at you we can get you back to your rooms. You can have some time to yourself to think about what you have discovered. Of course, there is no need for you to return to your post immediately because Remus has kindly stepped in to help."

"Remus?" she asked, looking up at Dumbledore with shining eyes. "Remus is here?"

"He came to take over your classes after you were attacked. It took some persuasion of both the Ministry and the governors of the school, but we made them see sense eventually. He will, of course, want to see you."

Dumbledore had been very worried about Remus Lupin's state of mind these past few weeks. With Severus standing guard over Maeve's unconscious form he had felt powerless to intervene and allow other visitors. Perhaps he had sensed the bond between her and the Potions master should not be broken at such a crucial time. But this decision had been very hard on both Remus and Harry. They had complained fervently about it on many occasions.

"How long have I been unconscious?" She looked dazed, astounded that she had been out of the world for so long that they had had to bring in someone to take her classes.

"A month, Maeve. It is the first of December tomorrow," he said. "I must confess, we were beginning to give up hope. I have had some of the best Healers here from St Mungo's to have a look at you, but none of them could offer a solution. It seems your father's intervention saved you. At what cost to him, we cannot know."

Dumbledore knew that the immortals Lugh shared his existence with would take a very dim view of one of their kind interfering with events in the mortal world, and he wondered what censure he would face.

"Indeed," she said, "it would seem I have a great deal to thank him for. Even though he is like some figment of my imagination. I can't contact him and I have no idea if we will ever see each other again." She gulped hard to prevent the soft sorrow from bubbling up in her throat.

Standing up, the folds of the white hospital dress fanned out around her feet, and she felt the rough material on her bare legs. She walked steadily to the window, watching as the first red rays of the sun fought against the dark of the night. Maeve smiled. She couldn't contact him, or even see him in his human form, but she could always feel his kiss when the sun rose. Its warm light would always find her, and this thought gave her some comfort.

"I think I would like to get changed now, Professor," she said. Maeve turned her back on the dawn, feeling the sudden thrust of life flowing back through her. "I am afraid my father warned me to shed my disguise. If, as it now seems, Voldemort knows my true identity via the betrayal of my… of that man… then there is little point keeping up the pretence. I will understand if you want to keep Remus on in my place, but I am sure the students would understand if we told them the truth."

"I think you should allow Poppy to take a look at you," Dumbledore said, taken aback by her swift change of attitude and confident words. He would mull over her decision to drop the carefully-crafted disguise later.

"I feel perfectly well, Professor. I don't think we need to disturb Madam Pomfrey." Her voice was steady. She gave him a look that suggested she was not prepared to negotiate the point.

Dumbledore reluctantly nodded his assent, offering to escort her to her rooms. He had no idea quite how he would explain this to the students. He could tell from the tilt of her jaw and the resolute look in her eyes that she would not be dissuaded from casting off the persona of Selene Lupin. It was as if Selene were an old dress that Maeve had grown tired of and wished to discard.

"Thank you, Professor," she said. "I would also like to see Remus as soon as he is available. Will that be possible?"

"I am sure Remus will see you immediately," Dumbledore said as he opened the doors of the ward, ushering her out onto the quiet corridor. "Let's get you to your room before the school comes down for breakfast. I hardly think you will want to run into the students at the moment."

She looked down at her plain shift dress and grinned.

"No, it's hardly the most flattering garment, is it?" she agreed as they set off hurriedly for her rooms.

Word flew round the school within minutes of the first student noticing that Professor Selene Lupin was no longer lying in the infirmary. It reached Professor Snape's lesson as the sixth-years trudged reluctantly into his classroom. Blaise Zabini was late. As he came running down the corridor he brought with him the fact that she was gone. The news spread through the class like wildfire. As a weary Professor Snape took his first class since Maeve's attack, he narrowed his eyes and demanded silence from the chattering students. They immediately quietened down; the fact that Professor Snape was once again taking lessons indicated that the rumours about Professor Lupin were true. In Severus' absence a younger man, Professor King, who had been sent by an agency in London, had taken the lessons. He had been a welcome relief from the harshness of Professor Snape, but even Ron had to admit he wasn't as knowledgeable.

Severus waved a disinterested hand toward the blackboard.

"All the ingredients are before you, the instructions are there and… what is it, Zabini?" he said snappishly as another, quieter, rustle ran through the Slytherin half of the room.

"Sorry, Sir." Blaise dropped his head, trying to look apologetic. Severus was on the verge of issuing a further reprimand, but a shadow passed across his face. The class got the impression he couldn't summon the energy.

"Now, you will make up this potion and we will be testing it at the end of the lesson. If you have done it right then you will be able to… RIGHT!" he roared at the Slytherins. A burst of laughter had just come from Draco Malfoy, and despite Severus' natural tendency to favour the boy, this disobedience was really too much.

"MALFOY, HERE!" he bellowed, his face burning with sudden ferocity.

The classroom froze as a reluctant Malfoy left his seat and approached Severus, who stood with his hands firmly embedded on his hips like some dark, avenging angel.

"What is it that you find so amusing?" He lingered over the word amusing as he gripped Malfoy by the shoulder with a claw-like hand.

"Nothing, Sir," Malfoy muttered, not daring to look his Head of House in the eyes.

"Clearly it is very much something," he drawled. Despite his mind being elsewhere he still retained his acerbic tongue. "Out with it."

"Professor Lupin…" Malfoy began, before trailing off.

"Which one?" Snape asked coldly, his grip tightening on Malfoy's flesh. While he would have welcomed unfavourable news about Remus Lupin, he was dreading hearing something that his heart knew was already true.

"The female one." There was a hint of bravado in Malfoy's voice now, despite the fingers clutching at his shoulder. "The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who couldn't even defend herself." He gave a slight smirk in the direction of his classmates. Some of the Gryffindors complained loudly and Harry, who had been back in the class since Severus had started his vigil over Maeve and whom Severus hadn't noticed yet, stood up with fury in his eyes.

"Malfoy, shut your filthy mouth," he said in a shaky voice. Hermione grabbed at his arm and tried to pull him back down.

"Potter!" Severus couldn't help but notice him now. Harry expected a barrage of insults, but instead Severus merely told him to sit down.

"Malfoy, do you have something to say about Professor Lupin?" Severus asked, turning his attention back to the boy that he still had clamped in his vice-like grip.

"She's dead, Sir." Malfoy couldn't keep a note of triumph from his voice. He was most surprised to find himself suddenly being flung across the room by his professor. He stumbled, trying to regain his balance, and in doing so hit his head on a desk. A small trickle of blood began to run down his forehead. Severus didn't even notice. He didn't notice that Harry Potter had just shot up from his chair shouting something. He didn't hear Malfoy yelling at him that his father would get to hear about this. He didn't notice the spontaneous outbreak of crying from some of the Gryffindor girls or the pale-faced looks of horror of the boys. His own face had become ashen. He strode past the chaos that had become his class and he threw open the door. Percy Weasley was the unfortunate person who happened to be walking past when Severus entered the corridor.

"You!" Severus barked at the flustered Percy, who dropped several clipboards in alarm. "Come here."

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly," Percy said hurriedly, the last thing he wanted was to get into a discussion with Professor Snape. As far as Percy was concerned, the Potions master had lost it somewhat since Professor Lupin had met with that unfortunate accident in the forest. "Far too much to do, I'm afraid."

"Get here now," Severus commanded, and his black eyes made Percy feel so unsettled that he tottered across to him, much against his better judgement.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Percy asked nervously.

"Yes, you can get in there and watch that class," Severus said, waving a waxy hand at the doorway to the classroom from which a white-faced Harry had just emerged.

"Where are you going?" Severus asked, putting a hand out to stop him. Harry slipped beyond the restraining hand that attempted to grasp at his robes and continued down the corridor.

"I'm going to see Professor Dumbledore," he shouted back over his shoulder.

"Wait, Potter," Severus called after him. He turned back to Percy, who jumped slightly under his piercing gaze and looked instantly terrified. The teacher pointed a slim finger at him.

"Get in there, Mr Weasley, and watch that class," he said in a low voice.

"But I'm not a teacher," Percy stammered as a sudden roar came from the room, the sound of a fight breaking out.

"NOW, Mr Weasley," he insisted, propelling Percy through the door with a sudden push before turning on his heel and heading off in the direction that Harry had taken.

Percy was hopelessly unprepared for the brawl that faced him. His weak shouts for order fell on deaf ears. Hermione turned to Ron and was disgusted to find he was joining in the melee. She slipped from the room and ran off in search of Professor McGonagall before the Gryffindors and the Slytherins killed each other. Already several hexes had been thrown. Her last glance at the classroom revealed a bewildered Neville, whose lower half had been turned into a llama.

Severus, meanwhile, had caught up with Harry at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Harry was desperately shouting passwords at it to try to get it to open, but none of them worked. As he approached, Harry's calls became even more frantic.

"Blackberry Wine," Severus said smoothly, and the door opened to reveal the wooden spiral staircase beyond it.

"After you, Mr Potter." Severus waved his arm in the direction of the door. Harry stared at him, wondering why the normally spiteful professor was being even vaguely tolerant of him. He stepped onto the staircase without saying a word to the black-robed figure who followed him. The staircase took them swiftly to the door that opened into Dumbledore's office, and Severus moved ahead of Harry to knock sharply with his white knuckles on the solid wood. A muffled instruction to enter was heard. Severus opened the door, once more allowing Harry to go in first. His grief was palpable, and for once he couldn't think of a good enough reason to be nasty to the boy. Judging by the look on Harry's face, they shared the same misery, and some loyalty to Maeve made him hold back from hurting Harry any further.

"Ahh," was all Dumbledore said as they entered. He had been nibbling at something that looked remarkably like a Christmas pudding. He hurriedly swept away the crumbs as they approached him.

"Just sampling the festive treats for this year's Christmas dinner," he said by way of an explanation. "Never too early to start the preparations."

Severus and Harry stood side by side, facing the smiling headmaster. Both of them looked like they were about to burst with fury at Dumbledore's apparent insensitivity and the serene expression on his face.

"Headmaster," Severus began, his teeth clenched together so hard he was barely speaking at all, "I am amazed to find you so composed after our discussion last night and the events that followed it."

Harry looked from Dumbledore to Severus and wondered what he was talking about. He knew he had missed something important. He couldn't believe that not only had Dumbledore neglected to tell him about Maeve's death – the thought caused him such a wave of grief that he had to clutch the chair beside him to steady himself – but he also sat there eating Christmas puddings in the face of such a tragedy.

"One must always look on the bright side, Severus," Dumbledore said, brushing a few more crumbs from his robes. "Please sit down, both of you."

"Maeve is dead," Harry exclaimed, causing Severus to wince as if he had been physically struck, "and you're sitting there as if nothing had happened! How can you?"

For once Severus couldn't find anything in what Harry had said to disagree with. He kept his piercing black eyes on Dumbledore as they both waited for a response. To their continued astonishment, Dumbledore's face crinkled into a laugh.

"Now, now. Perhaps we should calm down a little." His tone lowered. "Please sit down and I will explain as best I can."

Once they had both reluctantly sat down Dumbledore surveyed them with eyes that took in their pale faces and anguished expressions. He was sad to see that it took the death of a friend to make them put up a united front. Sadly, he knew that once he had cleared the matter up they would once again be bitter enemies.

"What have you heard?" he said, looking to Severus. It was Harry who answered him.

"Draco Malfoy told us that she was dead." He swallowed his grief quickly before continuing. "They are saying her body has gone from the infirmary."

Severus was gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles threatened to break through the paper-thin skin that covered them. He leaned forward slightly to catch every nuance of what Dumbledore was about to say.

"Well, young Draco has been under a lot of pressure this term, Harry. One should take what he says as unreliable until you have had it confirmed by other sources."

Dumbledore drummed his fingers softly on the desk as if he could hear a tune that they could not.

"Are you saying," Severus broke in with a chilly pitch in his tone of voice, "that Maeve is not dead?"

"That is exactly what I am saying." Dumbledore lifted his fingers from the table and watched as the impact of his words hit the two people in front of him. Disbelief, amazement, relief, bewilderment and finally joy crossed their faces. "Maeve is, at this moment, in her rooms with Professor Lupin. They are trying to make sense of what has happened, and her new circumstances."

The joy on Severus' face turned to envy as he realised Maeve must have asked for Remus before him. He was about to speak when Dumbledore, understanding his feelings, stopped him.

"She needs to cope with a lot of new information, Severus. If you will permit me to say it, you are rather too close to the events of last night for her to speak freely with you at the moment. Give her some time with Remus; he will bring her around in less time than any of us can."

Severus sat back, not entirely placated by what Dumbledore had said.

"What new circumstances and events?" Harry asked, aware they were talking above him. He wanted very much to know exactly what had happened.

"Maeve has discovered that her father is not who she thought he was," Dumbledore began, but Snape shot forward in his chair and interrupted him.

"I really don't think this is for Potter to know, Headmaster." He looked at Harry with a flash of the accustomed animosity.

"Harry has a right to know this. I believe Maeve would want him to know, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "Now is not the time for personal difficulties. Now is the time to help a friend by swallowing things we might ordinarily say. Let us be a little more charitable."

Severus slumped back again; he was desperately trying to get a grip on his emotions and was feeling like a train that had become derailed. It wasn't just Maeve who had been on a frightening journey that night; he had also faced several personal demons, the most prominent of which were death and love. He feared them both in the same all-consuming way.

"Who is her father, then?" Harry asked, ignoring the venomous looks from Severus

"Have you ever heard of the Lugh Lamfada, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow as Severus got up from his chair and left the room in a cloud of disapproval. The door snapped shut behind him and Dumbledore turned his attention once again to Harry.

"No," said Harry. "Is that her dad?"

"Yes, he is an Irish Immortal, a God of the sun and light. He came to Maeve last night to save her from the fate that Voldemort's followers tried to inflict upon her. She is luckier than she can ever know, and yet she is also under a prophecy in the same way you are. Your fates are intertwined, Harry, more than I knew."

A knocking on the door interrupted them. A flushed Professor McGonagall rushed in without waiting for an invitation.

"Albus, I really think you should come. Draco Malfoy has taken leave of his senses and has hexed several students. He has barricaded himself in the Potions classroom and is using some powerful magic to keep us out." She hesitated, as if there were something more.

"And what else, Professor?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"He attempted to use an Unforgivable curse on Mr Longbottom but the boy deflected it superbly. Obviously this is serious cause for concern. I can't find Professor Snape anywhere to help talk to the boy, and no one else can calm him down." She spoke with such urgency that Harry was quite startled, his green eyes wide beneath his glasses.

"Professor Snape was with us a few moments ago, Minerva. I am surprised you did not pass him on your way up," Dumbledore said. Professor McGonagall shook her head, insisting she had not seen him.

"And do we know what precipitated this outburst from Mr Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked calmly as Harry continued to goggle.

"Ronald Weasley appeared to say something about his father that Mr Malfoy did not take too kindly to. Unfortunately he attempted to hex Mr Weasley, which resulted in more hexes than you could shake a wand at being thrown around. Madam Pomfrey will have her work cut out for her today sorting all those students out."

Professor Dumbledore stood up slowly, as if he felt a weariness he could not bear.

"And so it begins, Minerva. The division that could cause our downfall. The Sorting Hat knew and tried to warn us, but still partition creeps in slowly. It's a subtle force, and one that does no one any good. " He shook his head as he followed her out of the door.

Harry was left sitting there looking around the room, surprised by his hasty abandonment. Fawkes was resting on his perch with his head cocked to one side, looking thoroughly disinterested in the conversation that had just taken place. The portraits were also unusually silent. He got up and began to walk around the room. He had been here many times before, but never ceased to be impressed by the huge number of magical items that Dumbledore had amassed. As he passed a lectern, he noticed that the large, leather-bound book it held began to move slightly. Its pages fluttered to and fro as if caught by an unexpected breeze. He watched engrossed as the book finally settled on a page and its gilt-edged leaves rested gently open. Stepping up to the book, he peered at the pages and felt a flash of recognition. Looking up at him from the page was the man in his dream.

The title of the page, set in illuminated letters, was 'Lugh, Lord of the Light' and he read both pages over several times as he learned about the man who was Maeve's father. It all felt strangely surreal, and yet the more he thought about it the more he realised it made sense. Maeve herself had the quality of sunlight; she lit the room up with her presence and could dispel fear and misery with a laugh. Yet there was also a fiery side to her, one he had experienced to his cost. A fiery side that meant anyone who angered her could get burned very badly indeed. He wondered what Dumbledore had meant about their futures being intertwined. Could she also be related to the prophecy about Voldemort, and was that why Voldemort wanted her dead? Could she in some way be destined to help him defeat that evil that now seemed to lurk everywhere?

The book, sensing he had finished reading, snapped shut with a thud, and a cloud of brown dust rose from its ancient pages. Harry moved towards the door, still pondering his connection to Maeve. He made his way down the stairs and out onto the corridor where he ran straight into Hermione. She had been crying and he placed a tentative arm on her shoulders. He was surprised by this curious behaviour on the part of his friend; Hermione very rarely cried. He could hear shouts and screams from a distant classroom then the roar of Dumbledore's voice followed by immediate silence. Hermione leant her head on Harry's shoulder for a moment before looking at him with accusing eyes.

"Where did you run off to? If you hadn't left maybe none of this would ever have happened!" she said.

"I came to see Professor Dumbledore," he replied. Harry didn't believe for a minute that if he had stayed in that classroom he would have been able to prevent the pandemonium that had ensued. "You don't seriously believe that I could have stopped Draco going crazy do you?"

"You could have stopped Ron going mad though. He was like a thing possessed."

Hermione shuddered as she recalled how Ron had said some terrible things to Draco, most of which had been true. Draco had responded by raining down a torrent of abuse on Ron about his own family, and then Percy, who had been unfortunate enough to be there, sided with Draco. This had made Ron purple with rage and caused him to throw a Forked Tongue Charm at his brother with the result that Percy's tongue grew long and green with a nasty split down the middle.

"It's as if the dark power Voldemort has is seeping into the school," she said. "There are more arguments between the girls, Draco has become even more unpleasant, Ron jumps down everyone's throat, and you've seen the Quidditch games; they have never been nastier."

Hermione was right, Quidditch had become something of a blood sport of late with the amount of broken bones caused by the increasing number of malicious fouls committed. Harry had thought the rise in unease and short tempers was caused by the attack on Maeve. He had felt numb for the past month and so assumed everyone else must be feeling a degree of that. Hermione was making it sound like there was something more insidious going on. Her hand flew to her mouth as she remembered the circumstances that had caused both Harry and Professor Snape to leave the Potions class.

"What about Professor Lupin?" she asked. "What happened?"

"She's not dead," Harry said, his heart giving a little leap as he allowed fresh hope to envelop him. "It's a very long story, but she is alive. She's with Remus now."

"Thank goodness," Hermione's relief was evident. "With a bit of luck we will get to keep both of them."

"Well, you might not recognise her when you next see her," Harry said with a smile.

"Why?" Hermione looked horrified, her mind immediately beginning to imagine all sorts of terrible injuries.

"Because she never was who she said she was. Let's find Ron and I'll tell you both everything. The whole school will know soon enough anyway."

They hurried off in the direction of the now silent Potions class. Neither of them noticed the slight shadow that crossed the window as they moved away but Argus Filch, who had been standing behind a statue eavesdropping, noticed it. He crept to the window, keeping a watchful eye on the two disappearing students. He was just in time to see the flick of a long black cloak as it flapped swiftly away over the trees, the broomstick just visible beneath the folds of fabric.

"Interesting, Mrs Norris," he said slowly, "very interesting that is."

With a twisted grin, he walked off in the opposite direction to Harry and Hermione, his cat weaving her way in and out of his legs as he walked.


	13. A Christmas Carol

As December progressed, the snow flew thick and fast around Hogwarts. Crisp, clear magic filled the air as preparations began for the Christmas celebrations and the feast that would accompany them. The darkness and fear of late November had lifted; the school became accustomed to the glow of Christmas, and the fact it had two Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, something unheard of in the history of Hogwarts. The blackness that had begun to penetrate the castle had been checked in its path, and light suffused the school once more. Maeve's survival and reappearance had made her something of a cause celebre in the wizarding world. Not a day went by without some article appearing in the _Daily Prophet_ that related to her in some way, be it a direct reference or something obscure like the recent travel article that had invited witches and wizards to holiday in 'Wicklow, home of the infamous Maeve O'Malley – Come and enjoy the magic!'. Maeve herself was rather bored with the whole thing. Part of her wished for the obscurity of Abbeylara and her sheltered existence, but the thought of the vile man that now owned it soon dispelled any nostalgic thoughts she may have had. She knew that Dumbledore had sent someone out there to look at the house in an attempt to ascertain what the man she had once called her father was doing with it. She could well imagine the mischief he would indulge in now she wasn't there.

With Remus to take some of the pressure off her, she was able to enjoy her lessons more. Time spent with D.A. was valuable, and she knew they were benefiting greatly from the extra lessons. With Severus back to his previous dark self, he had once again refused to take Harry, and so she was finding more time to give Harry the intensive Potions training he needed to bring him up to N.E.W.T. level. He was also proving much more receptive to Occlumency lessons than perhaps she had been led to believe. She couldn't know it was his sheer relief at having her back from the dead that encouraged him to turn off his thoughts each night and sleep soundly for the first time in over a year.

It was only five days before Christmas and snow was still drifting sedately over Hogwarts, making it look like it had recently been iced. In two days the students would be heading home, leaving only a few behind at the school. Breakfast that morning was an excited affair because visitors belonging to a small community of dwarves from the northern tip of Scandinavia had arrived, and they were busy dispensing sage advice to anyone who would listen. Dumbledore had spent the previous month in deep discussion with the Norwegian Minister of Magic, and it had been decided that a brief visit would prove beneficial for both sides. The headmaster was only too aware that the need for international co-operation between different creatures was becoming increasingly important, and he was keen to promote anything that might make his students more open to other cultures. These dwarves were of a particularly pure line that had lived for centuries in the mountains of Norway, pushed ever northwards by the inquisitiveness of the humans that now shared their country. They were taller than might be imagined, standing at an average height of five feet when fully grown, and they were unusually smooth of face, with the men being clean-shaven rather than sporting the traditional beard. The only dwarves the students had previously met had been surly looking creatures, but these had a different bearing about them. Their faces were gently intelligent, and they appeared willing to engage in animated conversations with the young witches and wizards.

Ron was busy talking to a white-haired female dwarf named Asta, who was arguing the relative merits of Quidditch over Table Archery, a game Ron thought was quite dangerous. The participants played in close proximity to perilously sharp arrowheads, which were fired swiftly at small targets on either side of a fairly average kitchen table. Hermione was also heavily in conversation with a relatively tall dwarf named Eitri, who had dazzled her with his skill as a goldsmith. He had already transformed her thin gold bracelet into an intricate piece of jewellery – which she couldn't stop twirling on her wrist – using a tiny, leather-shrouded toolkit that he pulled from his tunic. Ron was too busy with Asta to cast Hermione disgusted looks. He even managed to get through breakfast without any veiled references to Viktor Krum, which Harry found quite an impressive feat.

Maeve sat at the teachers' table, sandwiched between Severus and Remus, ignoring the undisguised looks of contempt that were being fired across her. She had been invited to Grimmauld Place for Christmas and was looking forward to it greatly. She had not experienced a lively Christmas since she had left Hogwarts as a student, so this was an opportunity she was not going to miss. Remus would be there, and Molly had invited Harry. They were also pleased that, at the last minute, Professor Dumbledore had said he would be able to stay for Christmas Day. The whole holiday was filled with a warm promise that she could hardly bear. The only cloud over the prospect was Severus and his refusal to attend. She was doing her best to rectify this, but so far was encountering stout resistance.

As the students and dwarves polished off the scrambled eggs and bacon, Professor Dumbledore stood up. He tapped his glass with a spoon, sending a gentle chime around the Hall that brought each and every conversation to a halt.

"Good morning, students, and, of course, our very esteemed guests." He raised his glass of bilberry juice in the direction of the Hall. "It pained me, at the beginning of the year, to announce that all visits to Hogsmeade would be curtailed for the course of your time here."

There was a grumble of assent that ran across each table; Hogsmeade had been missed by everyone.

"And so it gives me great pleasure to announce a special treat for you all. We cannot go to Hogsmeade, but that does not mean that Hogsmeade cannot come to us."

There were doubtful faces on most of the students, as if they thought Dumbledore had taken leave of his senses. Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged his shoulders and carried on chewing a piece of bacon. Hermione watched the headmaster eagerly, perhaps expecting some advanced magic that would transport the whole of Hogsmeade to the Great Hall.

"Lessons have been cancelled for today. If you go outside, you will find the grounds covered with all manner of stalls and entertainments for your pleasure. You will have the opportunity to buy Christmas gifts and experience all the usual delights to be found in Hogsmeade." He smiled widely, satisfied to see the excitement that flashed from student to student as they sat in their places.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" He clapped his hands together in a cheery dismissal. "Go and get your outdoor things on, and have fun."

There was a rising cacophony of noise as hundreds of feet headed for the doors, a loud chatter erupting from the students as they discussed, in lively tones, what they would buy.

Maeve was as excited as her pupils. Dumbledore had managed to keep his little secret from the teachers, so it was as much a surprise to them as it was to the students. She turned to Severus first, but he gave her such a cold look that she immediately turned back to Remus, an altogether warmer prospect.

"How thrilling," she said, clapping her hands together, to the accompaniment of a groan from Severus. "It's so long since I have seen anything like this. It will be like the street fairs we had back at home when I was a child."

"Dumbledore knows how to keep a secret," Remus said quietly, admiration for the old wizard woven into his words. "Go and get your cloak. We'll go and investigate our early Christmas present."

"Oh, how delightful," Severus said sarcastically. "False jollity and the opportunity to buy cheap tat… that just epitomises this time of year."

He stood up at the same time as Maeve, brushing against her as he moved away from the table. She reached out her hand to his and her face softened.

"Severus, why don't you come? It will be lovely, and you never know, you may actually enjoy yourself." Her voice was silkily persuasive, but Severus wasn't to be swayed.

"I think not," he said, ignoring the pressure of her hand on his arm. "I have work to do, unlike some, who have their lessons taken for them by others."

"Fine," she breathed, "go and sulk in your office, for all the good it will do you."

Remus was standing now, looking almost embarrassed by the interchange between them. Severus refused to meet his gaze, and Remus honestly felt he could have hit him. Why on earth couldn't he see the lengths this woman would go to please him? He just threw away any attempts at friendship she made. Maeve walked away with one last sad look at Severus, and Remus' anger was solidified

"Severus, you are an unbelievably foolish man sometimes," he said with forced restraint. "She would give everything to have your company this Christmas, and yet you continually spurn her."

"What would you know, Lupin?" Severus spat, contempt dripping from his voice.

"I know she's distressed by your continued refusal to spend any time with her, although Merlin only knows why she would want to. You have no idea how much it would mean to her if you spent a few hours with her on Christmas Day, and yet the great Severus Snape can't find the time in his busy schedule to fit her in. It's not as if you have a demanding diary, is it?" Remus' pale eyes were lit with anger, and Severus stepped back slightly.

"I do, as it happens, have something I must do on Christmas Day. It does not, however, involve playing fatuous party games and the wearing of silly hats." Severus' cold face wavered for a moment.

"Then surely you could involve Maeve in whatever it is?" Remus wasn't about to relent.

"Not unless she wants to spend the day at St Mungo's… " Severus stopped abruptly, as if he knew he had already said too much.

"Why would you be visiting St Mungo's?" Remus asked.

"That is none of your business!" Severus terminated the conversation abruptly, turning away from Remus and marching off towards the door. He left the other wizard puzzling over this new piece of information.

As Maeve stepped out into the sunlight, the colours and the activity that met her eyes overwhelmed her. Prettily decorated wooden stalls covered the ground in all directions. The shouts of the stallholders mingled to make one exhilarating clamour. From her right she could hear a cry of 'Get your hot chestnuts here, hot chestnuts fresh from the oven!' and this was followed by an imploring voice asking people to buy holly and mistletoe, fresh from the Isle of Avalon. Maeve grinned at the exaggeration; she knew perfectly well it had probably been cut from the trees that skirted Hogsmeade that very morning. To her left she could see the very busy candyfloss stall and a brightly coloured tent with a sign above it that stated, in vivid red letters, that this was the tent of 'Madame Andrasta, Seer to the Stars'. Amongst all the stalls the students moved freely, almost as freely as their saved up pocket money, which had been burning a hole in their pockets since they had arrived at Hogwarts.

As she watched, her breath coming in thick, white clouds because of the cold, she felt an arm slip around her waist and give her a quick squeeze.

"Ready to dive in?" Remus said lightly.

"Oh, yes," she replied, her eyes bright with happiness. "It looks wonderful, doesn't it?"

As they stepped into the melee, they could hear a band strike up and the cheering jangle of "Jingle Bells" rang out across the courtyard. Smells assailed their nostrils from every direction, the warm whiff of frying sausages and onions mingled with the sharp smell of pine needles from the huge Christmas tree that had sprung up in the midst of the stalls. The distinctive aroma of mulled wine drifted over from a stall that seemed to be doing rather a lot of business. Remus at once steered her in that direction. They joined the queue, and immediately found themselves being appraised by Luna Lovegood's wistful eyes.

"Hello," she said, looking at Maeve. "It's nice isn't it?"

"It's lovely, Luna. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Luna replied. "We have a stand here somewhere. Dad has sent up a few of the people who work at _The Quibbler_. They have a stack of magazines to sell."

"Well, I'll be sure to drop by and purchase one," Maeve promised. She had read _The Quibbler _a few times, and although it had a reputation for publishing the most outlandish nonsense, she had found one or two interesting articles tucked away inside its implausible covers.

"Dad says you are the most popular celebrity around at the moment," Luna continued. "But I think the stuff they are writing about you is all nonsense. None of them really know, do they?" Luna smiled brightly. "One glass please," she said to the rosy-cheeked girl who was ladling the warm, red liquid out from the huge bubbling cauldron.

"No, Luna, they don't know." Maeve had the unsettling feeling that Luna knew. She had no idea how this girl could possibly have an insight into her life, but the girl's knowing looks betrayed an awareness that was beyond her years.

"Well," Luna began as she sipped the hot wine, "you should keep it that way. And you look much better with red hair."

Remus smiled as the girl moved away, leaving Maeve with a ponderous expression on her face.

"She unsettles me," Maeve said, as Remus asked for two glasses of wine. "She looks straight through you with those silvery eyes of hers."

"She is very intelligent in her own way," Remus said, handing her a steaming glass that smelled of cinnamon and warm fruit. "It is a shame that most of her classmates treat her as if she's unhinged."

"They do, don't they?" Maeve said, sipping the fruity concoction that she had been given. "They are young though, and don't recognise the quality she has." They began to walk away in the direction of the impressive bandstand. It towered above the smaller structures with its tall, twisting ironwork, which was painted white and swathed in deep green holly, whose blood red berries stood out sharply.

"Professor Lupin!"

They both turned at the shout from Scrivenschaft's Quill stand. Harry was walking across to them with a huge grin on his face. He was glad to escape from Hermione and her new friend, who was going on and on about gold and how it bent easier when it was warm. Hermione had gone on to sympathise with the dwarf about the cold temperatures in this part of the country, and had commented on the fact it must be terrible for him. Harry had given up at that point, escaping to the relative peace of Honeyduke's sweet stall. From the bulge in his cheeks, he was working his way through his purchases nicely.

"Having a good time, Harry?" Remus asked, refusing the offer of a sweet from the open bag.

"Brilliant, really good!" he nodded, swallowing quickly. "Professor Dumbledore really pulled it off this time, didn't he?"

"He did," Maeve said. "Are you all ready to leave for London?"

"Not quite, although I can't wait."

"We need to be careful travelling down." Remus sounded a note of caution, and the other two frowned at this unwelcome reminder that they had other things to worry about beside roasted chestnuts and what they were going to buy each other for Christmas.

Shrieks came from the 'Hook a Horklump' stand as Seamus Finnigan managed to catch one on the end of his long fishing rod. Instead of allowing the stallholder to unhook it and give him his prize, he somehow managed to flick the rod backwards, and the mushroom-shaped creature flew through the air, landing in the hood of Lavender Brown's cloak. She was jumping up and down, begging Parvati Patil to get it out for her, but Parvati was standing back with her face screwed up in disgust. The exasperated stallholder jumped across the wooden slats that formed the side of his stall and scooped it out with his hands, before expertly flicking it back into the miniature garden in the centre of his stall.

"Snape's not coming, is he?" Harry asked as the commotion subsided.

"Professor Snape, Harry." Remus corrected him automatically.

"No," Maeve said. "Professor Snape doesn't appear to be coming, though goodness knows where he will go. Silly man." She said the last part under her breath and Harry didn't catch it. Remus looked like he was about to say something, but he felt it would be better if he waited until they were alone before he mentioned Severus' mysterious visit to St Mungo's.

"How are you getting on with the dwarves?" Maeve asked, turning the conversation away from Severus and onto lighter ground.

"They're boring and serious." Harry pulled a face. "Ron has been totally sucked in by that blond one, and Hermione is drooling over Eti-something. He never stops going on about gold and necklaces. Of course, Hermione thinks it's all very clever."

"They are very wise people," Maeve said, admonishing Harry gently. "We are lucky Professor Dumbledore moved to bring them back within the fold. They would make formidable enemies."

"I can imagine. If Ron's new friend is anything to go by, they are pretty hot with an arrow. I always thought they were too clumsy for that, but they're pretty agile really." Harry couldn't help letting a little admiration creep into his voice.

Maeve pulled her cloak tighter around her as she felt a deepening chill pass through the already cold air. She looked around anxiously, wondering where the feeling had come from. Between the stalls she could sense someone, or something, watching her, and Remus noticed her sudden pensiveness.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, but she shook her head slightly. "Just a feeling that... oh, never mind." She laughed, but her laughter contained a slightly nervous note and Remus wondered what was suddenly troubling her.

"Let's go and listen to the band," he said, in an attempt to cheer her up. They were now playing a gentle rendition of "Silent Night" so all three of them went to join the crowd pressing around the edges of the bandstand.

On the fringes of the forest, a lonely shadow crouched, keeping away from the crowd of students and the happiness they exuded. The time was nearly right and soon all trace of this merry making would be gone, devoured by the darkness that would descend. They couldn't obliterate the light while that woman was still around though. There she was now, and she was talking to the boy. The creature shuddered at the sight of two of the people who stood between his master and complete control of the wizarding world. The woman stopped and looked directly at him. He drew back into the trees quickly because he could have sworn she looked straight into his eyes. He felt, rather than saw, the shudder that ran through her. He smiled to himself at the thought that his presence had the power to affect her. They turned their backs to him and began walking away so he pulled even further back into the forest, relaxing under the darkness of the trees. The New Year wasn't far off, and then both wizards and Muggles would feel the power of the Dark Lord. There would be wonderful times ahead as they fought and won a glorious fight. With a flick of its tail and a flash of clouded, white eyes, the weasel scurried deep into the forest where it would be able to transform itself back to its normal form in safety, away from unwelcome eyes.

By early evening the teachers and students were exhausted, but happy, as the people of Hogsmeade began to clear away their wares and pack up their stalls. The sun had long since sunk below the horizon and hundreds of flitting fireflies lit what remained of the fair. The students began to go inside in weary groups, and a hush descended on the grounds of Hogwarts. Maeve was one of the last in; her earlier feeling of disquiet had kept her outside, trying vainly to put her finger on what it was that had upset her so much. Clouds were gathering above the school, and cold winds began to blow in off the mountains. As the last of the stallholders rattled away down the long drive, she huddled into her cloak and stood on the steps, watching the night.

There was still the faint scent of food and cinnamon in the air. The huge Christmas tree that had magically appeared had now disappeared, leaving behind a few needles scattered on the ground.

"You shouldn't be here alone." The voice made her jump, and she turned to face Severus, whose black outline was emphasised by the glowing lights behind him.

"Ah, you have come out of your hiding place now there's no longer the danger of fun catching you unawares," she said with a grin.

"It is not my idea of fun, Maeve, as well you know."

Her habitual affection for the harsh figure resurfaced and she found herself being gentle with him. "I know," she said, "but it doesn't stop me hoping that one day you will just let yourself go ever so slightly."

Severus gave a grunt, which implied there was no danger of that ever happening.

"Come out of the cold," he suggested. "It's hard to tell what's lurking out there. It isn't safe."

"I know," she said, turning back inside. "I know it isn't safe, Severus. There is darkness out there waiting patiently for something, and we don't know what that something is."

They walked together to the staff room in companionable silence and found the room unusually empty. She dropped into the chair nearest the fire, slipping her cloak over the back of it.

"I am not being deliberately difficult about coming to Grimmauld Place for Christmas," he said, surprising her by broaching the subject.

"Oh," she said, waiting for him to get to the point.

"I have something else I must do." He broke off and poured a measure of Firewhisky into a glass.

"Really?" She was intrigued, but deliberately kept her voice from sounding too in need of the information.

"I have to… " But what he had to do was interrupted by the door opening, and a distracted-looking Professor Dumbledore walked in.

"Ahh, Maeve, just the person I have been looking for," he said, nodding a greeting to Severus.

"What is it, Professor?" she asked, getting up from her position by the fire. She glanced at Severus, who was looking thunderous at the sudden interruption. She had no idea how long it had taken him to come to the decision to tell her exactly where he went on Christmas Day, and now he couldn't. Not with Dumbledore in the room.

"I'm afraid we have discovered exactly why Niall O'Malley wanted your house." He was careful to use the word 'your', because Albus Dumbledore wasn't entirely sure Maeve had seen the last of Abbeylara.

"Really?" she said. "Do I want to know?"

"You need to know," he insisted. "We have good reason to believe, via our spies in the area, that Abbeylara is now a meeting place for Death Eaters, and for all we know, it may well be where Voldemort himself is hiding."

Severus stood with his arms folded across his chest, his face impassive. His eyes flicked quickly towards Maeve's face to see how she was reacting, but she turned away and watched the flames flicker in the fireplace.

"I'm sorry to bring you this news," Dumbledore said quietly. "And so close to Christmas. There is nothing we can do at the moment but keep a close watch on the situation. At least we know where a lot of them are congregating."

"Yes," she said to the fire. "Do you think Niall has always worked for Voldemort, or is this a recent affectation?"

"I think it is fairly recent," Dumbledore paused, aware that Severus was watching him intently. "We have reason to believe it is Malachy Meany who has precipitated this outpouring of darkness on the part of Niall O'Malley. There can be no doubt they are both firmly allied with Voldemort, and you are becoming a focus for their hatred."

She puffed her cheeks out slowly and faced Dumbledore; the flames from the fire reflected in her eyes. Again she could feel the dark edges at the periphery of her vision, a pressing feeling of something trying to get in and being held back by the flimsiest of barriers. She picked up her coat from the back of the chair and walked towards the door, a worried Dumbledore not taking his eyes off her.

"Well, Professors," she said as she opened the door. "If they wish to kill me, they will have to do better than their previous attempts. It would seem I am well enough connected to thwart Voldemort's many attempts upon my life."

She closed the door softly behind her and climbed the stairs to her rooms. She wasn't sure what concerned her the most, the fact that Voldemort would appear to have a base, and that that base was her ancestral home, or the fact that she didn't care.

The castle was settling down around her as she reached her door, the sounds of the students died away as they all reached their common rooms to discuss the day's events. The dwarves had left, leaving some of the students sadder than others; Hermione was already missing the charms of Eitri, causing Ron to make quite a few barbed comments about Viktor, and the fact he was out of sight, out of mind. Harry laughed at their faces as they sat opposite each other in the Gryffindor common room.

"I wish you two would stop bickering like an old married couple," he said as he sorted through his purchases from earlier. "Really, I can't understand you."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said in a cool voice. "Ron and I don't bicker."

"No, we don't," agreed Ron, although he did have the grace to blush slightly when he said this. "If we bickered, I wouldn't have asked Hermione to the Christmas feast, would I?"

"You asked Hermione because you didn't want to be left without a partner two days before the feast," Harry said, and watched as Ron squirmed a little in his chair. Hermione looked even more indignant than she had a moment ago, protesting that this was not the case at all.

"Who are you going with then?" Hermione asked acidly. She was extremely satisfied when Harry just shrugged and said he hadn't arranged anything yet.

"But the dance is tomorrow!" Ron said, spilling the Chocolate Frog cards he was sorting through all over the floor.

"I know." Harry placed his little packages back into the large bag he had had them in and made for the stairs. "In fact, I am just going to put these away and then I am off to do something about it."

"You'll never find anyone now, mate," Ron said, pointedly looking across at Ginny. "Unless you fancied taking someone that was already going with someone, and that someone was highly unsuitable."

Both Hermione and Harry followed his gaze and spotted Ginny, who was busy laughing at something Dean Thomas had said. She looked up and found the three friends staring at her. She immediately gave them a look that plainly said 'get lost' before turning her attention back to Dean.

"It's not good that," Ron said gloomily. "Not good at all."

"You're just being silly," Hermione said, her voice heavy with scorn. "Dean's nice enough, and he's pretty clever too."

"You see," Harry sighed as he moved away, "bickering again." And with that he was up the stairs and depositing his purchases under his bed, before making his way back down the stairs and out of the common room. As he left he could hear Hermione muttering something about him not going anywhere alone. He ignored her and headed off towards where he imagined the Ravenclaw common room to be, on the off chance he might see someone he wanted a quick word with. As Harry turned a corner onto one of the landings, he could hear muffled voices and slowed down to get a better idea of where they were coming from. He leaned over the side of the landing and saw the shining, blonde head of Narcissa Malfoy. She was speaking quietly with Professor Snape. He couldn't hear much of what was said, but Professor Snape looked angry, while Narcissa was tapping her foot impatiently.

"It's not too late," he heard her say as her voice rose slightly. Severus replied and Harry could see her face harden before she hissed something that ended in 'death'. The Potions master turned sharply on his heel and vanished, leaving Narcissa alone in the hallway. She shivered a little, moving around, peering at portraits and running a finger along the occasional mantelpiece. Harry felt the chill too, and couldn't help but rub his arms to ward off the goose bumps that had appeared beneath his jumper. The clatter of feet alerted him to the fact someone was coming and he shrank back a little from the edge.

"Draco, my darling!"

"Get off, Mum."

Harry risked peering over the top again, and could see Draco Malfoy being enveloped in his mother's arms as she kissed the top of his head. Draco looked deeply upset at this display of maternal affection and wriggled free. Harry decided it was worth the risk of being caught to move closer to them so he could hear what they were saying. He slowly crept down the first few stairs and found he had a much better position.

"Are we going to see my father now?" Draco asked curtly. Severus, who had returned with him, gave a little smirk at the mention of Lucius Malfoy and raised an eyebrow at Narcissa.

"Yes we are, Draco darling. Your poor father hasn't seen you for the whole of this term and he is desperate to talk to you." Her fingers absentmindedly stroked Draco's arm as she spoke, although her eyes never left Severus. "If you would care to escort us to our carriage, Severus, I would be most grateful."

"I don't think that will be necessary, Narcissa," Severus said firmly. "After all, it is waiting just by the door, and you do have Draco here for protection. Good evening to both of you." As usual Severus didn't waste any time, and was gone before Narcissa had the chance to say anything else. Left alone with her son, she picked up his case and placed an arm across his shoulder.

"Such a difficult man, and in so much danger should the Dark Lord get hold of him," she muttered to herself. "And yet… Come, Draco, we must be leaving. I have some house-elves to discipline later and I don't want to be home too late."

Draco gave a malicious laugh as mother and son headed for the main doors and out into the night. Harry knew he should have felt gleeful that someone else had trouble with Snape. He should have been glad by the implied threat against Snape's life, but somehow it made him uneasy.

He quickly rose from his crouching position and almost ran towards the general area of the Ravenclaw common room, where everything was quiet, and for the first time he began to have doubts about his plan to acquire a partner for the Christmas dance. After loitering for a good half an hour, he was on the point of giving up. He could hear faint laughter from somewhere above him and wondered if maybe he was being just a little bit big-headed in assuming that his target for the evening wouldn't already have a partner. He was just about to give up when one of the oak doors that lined the corridor swung open, and he gave a quick thank you to whomever it was that had sent Luna Lovegood down those stairs that night.

"Oh, Harry," she said as if she were surprised, but something in her eyes suggested she wasn't surprised at all.

"Luna, I wanted to see you," Harry said with some relief.

"I know," she answered. "I thought I had better come down, because you looked like you were here for the night."

Harry looked at her in bemusement; how on earth could she have known he was waiting for her?

"Well, I just wanted to ask you… if you would," Harry was tongue-tied, a strange occurrence considering he never normally had a problem talking to Luna. She was one of the few people he felt he had any understanding of. "Do you have a partner for the dance?" he said finally, the words tumbling out in a rush of embarrassment.

"No," she said, twisting her fingers around the old quill that she had stuck in her hair.

"Would you like to go with me?" Harry asked, and he couldn't keep the hopeful lilt out of his voice.

"Thank you, Harry, that would be nice." She turned around and pushed open the door that she had just walked through, preparing to leave him.

"Ermm…" Harry began, and then realised he didn't have anything else to add.

"Yes, Harry?" Luna turned her eyes to him.

"Nothing," Harry said hurriedly. "See you tomorrow."

"Will you? Oh, okay then." She smiled at him. "Sleep well, Harry."

And as Harry ran back along the corridors, he felt strangely happy about the outcome of that conversation.


	14. A Promise Made

They arrived at Grimmauld Place late on Christmas Eve. A flurry of activity heralded their coming as Molly rushed to pour them all drinks. Tonks dashed around the house, balancing plates of mince pies and yule logs in her precarious hands.

Maeve shook the snow off her cloak, hanging it on the coat rack that had been nailed purposefully to the frame of Mrs Black's portrait. The rack had been Molly's idea, and afforded one more layer of protection against the painting's violent outbursts. Remus followed suit, hanging his tatty, threadbare one over her pristine, bottle-green garment. Harry hung back a little. He was still sulking over the fact he had not been allowed to accompany Luna on her trip to the North Pole with her father. They had gone on the hunt for the real Santa Claus. Her father had been absolutely convinced that he would get the pictures to prove Santa didn't do the whole present run by himself. Harry wasn't really interested in Santa Claus, whom he considered to be a bit of a myth, but he was interested in Luna's company. Granted, she might sometimes go off on a verbal tangent that left him grasping for some sort of meaning, but on the whole she eased his mind. He found she brought him a degree of peace that he couldn't even find with Ron because she appeared to understand more about the nature of death than anyone he knew. Naturally, this had annoyed Ron, who didn't like feeling he was second best in Harry's affections.

Molly ushered them through to the drawing room, where Tonks immediately threw a tray full of Smoked Snapdragon scones over the assembled guests. There was confusion as Maeve leapt up to catch the Snapdragons before they attempted to escape through a half-open window. The room rapidly filled with people all eager to join in with the Christmas frivolities. Molly, Arthur and all of their children, with the exception of Percy, who hadn't replied to the invitation, were dotted around the room. Remus and Tonks had taken the smaller sofa in the corner and were happily swigging the punch. Harry was whispering something to Hermione. Alastor Moody, Mundungus Fletcher and Kingsley Shacklebolt were watching warily from the doorway, while Maeve was sitting alone in the armchair by the fire, her face flushed from the heat. Albus Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, surveying them all with pleasure.

"Well, my friends," he began in a warm voice. "Here we all are, gathered together on this Christmas Eve. I need tell no one just how precarious our future is, but for now I wish you all the very best of health and I hope we can enjoy a very special day tomorrow. It will be a good while before we can all be together again like this, as I know some of you have to leave for special assignments in the New Year." He gave a quick look at Tonks and Kingsley, who both shifted uncomfortably.

"You are all very important to me," he continued, in a rare moment of poignant honesty. "I trust you all unreservedly, and you shall all be in my thoughts as the events that threaten to overwhelm our world unfold."

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who grinned, before wincing as Hermione dug him heavily in the ribs, a deep frown on her features.

"Professor Dumbledore is being serious," she hissed. "We have no idea what is being planned and how it will effect us."

"Quite right, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Enjoy your evening, all of you. Alas, I must make my way to the Ministry for one final meeting before tomorrow's celebrations. Rest assured, however, that I will return tomorrow morning to take part in the exchange of presents and, of course, I wouldn't miss the excellent Christmas dinner that Molly will assuredly have made for us all."

Mrs Weasley blushed under Dumbledore's expectant gaze, folding her pleased arms across her ample bosom. He smiled at her as he silently Disapparated from the room.

"Well then," she said in a high voice. "There are lots of nibbles in the kitchen and there's plenty to drink for everyone."

Mundungus made a sudden movement for the drinks cabinet in the corner, but Molly's sudden cough drew him up sharply.

"But I would hope you would restrain yourselves," she said pointedly at him as he looked shiftily around the room. "We do, after all, have to keep a certain degree of watchfulness."

Mundungus slumped back against the wall, muttering something about stupid spoilsports under his breath. He cast a poisonous look at Mrs Weasley, who glared back at him. She couldn't understand why Mundungus had even been invited; in her opinion, wizards of his moral ineptitude should be kept well away from secret headquarters, let alone invited to celebrations.

Alastor and Kingsley hurried off towards the kitchen in search of food, with Fred and George in hot pursuit. Charlie Weasley seemed to have something important to discuss with his father, so he ignored Bill's attempts to draw him into a separate conversation. Slowly, the assembled company dispersed into smaller groups. Maeve continued to sit alone as everyone else found someone to talk to and something to talk about. She had never been good in groups; she enjoyed the company and the warmth that such a large group provided, but she had never been able to mingle easily. These were people she knew and loved, yet she found herself sitting alone with a fixed expression on her face and a plan forming in her mind.

The end of term feast had been fun; she had thoroughly enjoyed dancing until her feet ached. Remus had proved to be a much better dancing partner than Severus. He had an instinctive feel for the rhythm of the music, which meant she had found the whole experience exhilarating as she was whisked around the Great Hall to the heady beat of the band. She had loved watching her students letting their hair down to enjoy themselves. Harry and Luna in particular had been a surprise – she could feel the ease that they shared and she found herself thankful that there was someone who could make Harry comfortable. She wasn't sure how long this closeness would last when the sharp edge of his grief had dulled, but, for now, the friendship was helpful. What had come later, however, had made her curious and troubled. She had felt that Remus had something to tell her throughout the evening, but it wasn't until the band had packed up and gone home that he broached the subject. They were sitting alone on the wooden stage, watching the students drag their feet reluctantly to their beds, when he had finally told her what was on his mind. Why would Severus spend Christmas Day at St Mungo's? He certainly wasn't doing charity work, of that she was very sure. The only explanation could be that he was visiting someone, and yet she had the distinct impression that both his parents were dead. She knew he had no other family. Of course, the more she thought about it, the more aware she was that he hadn't actually told her his parents were dead. This thought became an itch that she couldn't scratch; it irritated her to the point of distraction.

As she sat there by the fire in the drawing room, watching everyone else enjoy themselves, a large part of her was elsewhere. In her mind, she was sitting in a damp dungeon office, watching a lesser fire that spat sparks onto the hearth and sputtered green against the chimney back. Closing her eyes, she could see his sallow face watching those same flames flare and die in the gloom of an unlit room, his hard, black eyes dulled by time and events.

And as she watched, she formed a plan, one that would require some degree of subterfuge and, if not an outright lie, at the very least a degree of skirting around the truth. She would have to be up very early. She mustn't encounter any of the household, or questions would be asked and answers would have to be given. Lying would be a last resort, one she didn't want to have to fall back on.

They all drifted to bed around eleven. Only Charlie and Kingsley remained up, drinking Firewhisky and swapping tales of dragons late into the night. Darkness swathed the house in an impenetrable cloak that clung to the building well into the morning, which, as far as Maeve was concerned, was all to the good. She woke at five, at least an hour before she anticipated Molly would be up, and quickly dressed. She took care to be very light on her feet as she moved around her room, aware that there were several extremely creaky floorboards that would betray her movements given half the chance. At five-fifteen she slipped silently from her room and made her way down the stairs, her breathing so slight that she felt like a phantom. As she reached the front door she slowly extricated her cloak from beneath Remus' and slipped it around her cold shoulders, all the while praying that she would not disturb the vile creature that slumbered beneath the coat rack. The house was still silent around her. As she slowly unbolted the front door, she was beginning to believe she had got away with it, but a low creak at the head of the stairs made her stop. A cold feeling seeped into her stomach as she rapidly planned a lie. She glanced up the stairs expecting to see Remus, or even worse, Dumbledore, but instead she saw the sleepy figure of Harry rubbing his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he mouthed at her, seeming to understand the subterfuge.

"Nothing," she said hurriedly. "Go back to bed. I'll be back for dinner, so don't worry, and don't tell anyone you saw me leave."

Something in her urgent expression woke Harry up, making him hurry down the remaining few stairs.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Nowhere, Harry. Go back to bed."

"Of course you're going somewhere!" he said, looking at her as if she were mad. "Otherwise why would you be wearing a cloak and sneaking out of the door?"

"I have to see someone," she said, trying to remain noncommittal.

"Who?"

She heaved an exasperated sigh and glared at him.

"I'm visiting someone at the hospital, old family friend. Now, I really must go or I won't be back in time for dinner." She leant forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which disarmed him long enough for her to close the door softly in his face. She hurried away into the dark square and the gloomy morning beyond it.

It was a lonely business, walking in the early morning with nothing but the crunch of the snow beneath her feet for company. Even the birds weren't yet up and dawn was still a distant promise. As she left Grimmauld Place, she was comforted by the fact it was so dark nothing would be able to see to follow her. It was fortunate that she had an innate sense of direction, which kept her feet plodding relentlessly through the hard snow towards St Mungo's.

Only once did she have cause for concern; something heavy bumped against her legs and gave a low whine. Maeve stepped back, catching her breath as a pair of glittering, green eyes gazed up at her. She then jumped back in fear as the eyes leapt up at her, and it was only when the cat had landed on her shoulders, purring heavily in her ear, that she laughed at herself as she stroked its soft coat. A bushy tail twirled around her neck as she lifted the soft body from her cloak and plonked it back down on the floor with a stern 'shoo'. The green eyes gave her a baleful look before disappearing into the darkness, leaving her alone once more.

It was another hour before she reached the street she was looking for; a street lined with many different shops and businesses Usually their bright lights and promises of riches brought the Muggles in their droves, but at this time in the morning their windows were dark. The Christmas lights were switched off and only the Muggle street lamps gave light to the quiet road. Their orange glow cast sinister shadows as she hurried down the right hand side, searching eagerly for Purge and Dowse, a department store that was permanently closing down. Just as she reached the window, she heard a faint rumble. Flashing amber lights made her look round in alarm; coming down the centre of the road was a large truck being driven by a grinning man, while another less cheerful man followed in close pursuit, lifting the occasional black bin and tipping the contents into the cavernous rear of the truck. It was too late to slip into the doorway and vanish from view, so she pretended to look at something in the window. Unfortunately, as the shop-window was empty of any interesting merchandise, she found herself staring at a shop dummy, which raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She ignored the dummy and the men, hoping that they would pass her by without comment, but she hadn't reckoned on the infallible cheeriness of the London bin men.

"Mornin', Darlin'," the one in the cab of the truck said with an eager leer. He had short, greying hair and a cigarette dangled from his mouth. It bobbed up and down as he spoke, threatening to launch itself at her at any moment. When she didn't answer, he took this as a personal challenge and turned up his charm.

"Not talkin' to me eh? Pretty lady like you shouldn't be traipsing round at this time in the mornin'. Bit early for the sales, ain't you?"

Perhaps it was his mention of the sales, or perhaps it was just a hasty realisation that everything else was silent in a calm that only occurred in such totality on this one morning of the year, but it occurred her that today was Christmas Day. There would be no council workers on the roads, and certainly no men clearing the streets of litter. Fear registered in her eyes as she turned back to the window and addressed the dummy quickly.

"Here to see Snape," she said in a small voice, hoping against hope that her hunch was correct. The dummy gave a small nod, causing its wig to slide to the floor. She hastily stepped through the glass. A quick backward glance at the street cleaners revealed two black-cloaked figures standing in the street with leering grins on their faces. As she vanished into nowhere she just caught a sight of their bewildered faces, which quickly turned to angry ones as they realised their prey had disappeared. She allowed herself a small smile; obviously those two had never been to St Mungo's before.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the brightness as she stepped from early morning London gloom into the white, healing atmosphere of a hospital. She had only ever been to St Mungo's once before, when she had been bitten by a Tri-Hooded Mortsnake during an illicit early morning collection of herbs in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey had thrown her hands up in the air in alarm and immediately sent her to St Mungo's via Portbulance, an interesting experience that involved touching a flashing blue Portkey. Apparently it got you there more quickly, but Maeve couldn't say she noticed any improvement on the normal Portkey. It had been a busy place on that occasion, but now it was quiet. A snoozing welcomewitch in a starched white apron was curled across the desk, and a few other staff in lime green uniforms where draped along the rows of seats that filled the entrance. She approached the desk slowly. When there was no sign of life she coughed politely, expecting the welcomewitch to dart up and immediately point her in the right direction. When nothing happened she frowned for a moment, and wondered why no one was awake. She turned despondently away from the desk to find a handsome young Healer bearing down on her from the long corridor directly facing the front desk.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed as he drew level with her. "Poor Philomena drew the short straw and had to work over Christmas Eve. As you can imagine, not only is she exhausted, but she's a bit fed up."

Maeve glanced back at the violet-haired witch, who was now snoring gently. She could imagine it was hard working the late shift on Christmas Eve with all the high jinks that young wizards got up to. No doubt there would have been many Firewhisky related accidents and one or two present wrapping problems.

"You are a bit early for visiting though." He glanced at the large clock above the desk and noted it was a little before seven. "It doesn't officially start until nine o'clock. Why don't you go for a drink in the visitor's tearoom? Fifth floor and straight along the corridor to the end… follow your nose!" he said as he started of along another corridor, giving her a cheery wave as he went.

She looked around for a lift, but only found a sign saying 'Stairs' that pointed down the corridor from which the young Healer had come. She set off in search of them, and pushing open a set of double doors, she found a rickety staircase that wound upwards at an alarmingly sharp incline. As she put her foot on the first step, it quivered and one of the portraits opened a sleepy eye.

"Gracious me, young lady, what time do you call this?" The aging wizard fixed her with a beady eye; the other was covered by a bright green eye-patch. "Bit early for visiting aren't we?"

"Tearoom," she said quickly as she sprinted up the stairs, each portrait waking as she passed and grumbling vociferously at her. She finally reached the top with the ringing of curses still in her ears. Maeve had to hold tight to the banister to catch her breath before opening another set of double doors and entering a long corridor, which seemed to stretch out for miles. There were no signs of life up here, and she walked down the lonely corridor feeling as if she had entered a deserted building. It was only when the first wafts of the scent of freshly roasted coffee began to hit her nose did she believe she was in the right place. The corridor ended at two doors, which had been propped open. The room she found herself in was a pretty one, crammed with tables, chairs and an assortment of large potted plants. White curtains hung at the windows, fluttering inwards as a light breeze came in through the open glass. Each table had a small vase, containing mistletoe and moonwort tied with a red ribbon, in the middle. Along one side of the room ran a counter, behind which stood a jolly-looking witch wearing a voluminous white robe and a cap that had the initials W.H.V.S. embroidered on it in red and gold thread.

"Hello, dearie," she boomed, as Maeve walked towards the counter. "Looking for a bit of light refreshment, are we?"

"Yes," Maeve said gratefully. "Could I have a coffee please?"

"Course you can, my love. Now why don't you take a seat and I'll fetch it over for you. Would you like a slice of saffron toast? My own special recipe… put some colour in those pale cheeks of yours."

She accepted the offer gratefully and chose a table in the corner of the room. Here she was partially hidden from the door by a tall, climbing ivy that was happily twisting itself around a pillar. She felt safer being concealed from general view. As soon as she sat down, several other people entered, deliberating over who was having tea and who was having coffee. Although no one here would probably know her, she still felt it was better not to take a chance being seen. The cheery woman bustled over with a small tray containing a pot of steaming coffee and a plate piled high with golden slices of toast covered in rich butter. Maeve suddenly realised she was very hungry indeed and tucked in enthusiastically, butter dripping from her fingers as she ate.

As the room gradually filled with other visitors the noise level rose and Maeve was glad of the anonymity the ivy afforded her. She had picked up a copy of the early edition of the _Daily Prophet_ and was reading it avidly when a sharp voice cut through her thoughts.

"Tea, no sugar."

"Certainly sir, would you like milk?"

"No."

"And how are we this morning? Can I tempt you with some of my saffr… "

"No."

"Well then, are we visiting relatives today?"

"And what business is that of yours?"

She peered over the top of her newspaper gingerly, a flutter of satisfaction in her stomach as she saw Severus' black-cloaked figure staring coldly at the woman behind the counter. The waitress was doing her best to remain polite despite his obvious curtness. Severus flung a few coins at her, leaving the counter with a cup and saucer in his hands. He moved quickly between the now full tables and settled himself at the back of the room somewhere. She couldn't see him now from her position and realised she would have to shift slightly to keep an eye on him. This was by far the best outcome because now, instead of having to make up lies to the welcomewitch, she could just follow him to his destination. The clock slowly ticked round to nine, and as it struck the hour she watched Severus rise from his seat. Unfortunately so did the rest of the visitors, She had to push her way rudely through several stragglers in order to catch a glimpse of his dark robe disappearing down the corridor. Slipping her hood over her head, Maeve followed at a safe distance as he made his way to the stairs. She wedged herself between two tall wizards, who were having a conversation about the merits of Leech Lotion for curing Itchwart, and only just caught sight of him leave the stairs at the fourth floor. Pushing her way past the wizard to her left, who grumbled something about manners and her appalling lack of them, she stepped into yet another corridor, watching as Severus turned sharply to the right. She crept round the corner and saw him approach a door, he rapped smartly on the glass and a young Healer opened it quickly.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked politely.

"Vervain Snape," he snapped.

"Yes, of course. Are you a relative?" The petite girl was clearly intimidated by the taller, black-clad wizard and hurriedly let him in.

"Her son," she heard Severus reply as the door was closed. Maeve could hear the dull click of a lock turning.

The sign on the wall announced that these were the 'Closed Wards' and Maeve knew immediately that whatever it was that was wrong with Severus' mother was incurable. She was filled with sadness that this was where he had been spending his Christmases. No wonder he hated all the fun and frolics, with his mother locked up in St Mungo's. She could only vaguely remember Vervain Snape, a timid witch who had once been something of a society beauty until she had married Kentigern Snape. After the marriage she had suffered at the hands of her husband, who was tyrannical in his attitude both towards his wife and, later, his only son. Knowing what she did of their history, she knew exactly why Severus was so hard. It would have been impossible not to be with such a harsh and driven father. Kentigern made her own stand-in parent look like beneficence itself. She hovered by the sign for a few minutes, before another Healer headed for the doors and stopped to ask her if she was lost.

"No, not at all," she said, thinking quickly. "I am here to visit my aunt, but I always need a moment to prepare myself."

The Healer nodded his sympathetic understanding.

"Are you ready to go through?" he asked. "I'm heading in that direction myself and can let you in."

"Yes," she said. "Yes I am, that would be so kind of you." Her face betrayed none of her deceit as she smiled gratefully.

Maeve followed him to the door and watched with relief as he withdrew his wand from his robes and called '_Alohomora_'.

"What is your aunt's name?" he asked, motioning her through the door first.

"Vervain Snape," she lied, casting glances around the ward for a sight of Severus.

"Ahh," he said slowly. "Well, she is feeling a bit better today. She always seems to know it's Christmas. I don't think I've ever seen you here before though."

"No, it's been a few years since I came. I've been in America, and it's been difficult to get back."

Once again he nodded. He had no reason to disbelieve her.

"Well, go to the end of this ward, turn right and keep going. She's by the window at the end." He smiled and she returned the gesture, unable to believe it had been this easy.

She moved silently through the ward, trying to close her eyes to the suffering that lay in the beds on either side of her. Occasionally a patient would call out to her, but she looked straight ahead and kept walking. She had never been able to cope well with sickness and here it pressed at her from every side. She turned right, immediately feeling the benefits of the high windows. Light penetrated here, more so than anywhere else, and the patients seemed calmer. There were few visitors on this ward: only one man had a young woman at his bedside, and he was wildly singing an out-of-tune Christmas carol to her. Maeve rather thought the tears in the woman's eyes were caused by the fact he didn't recognise her as his wife than for the out-of-tune song.

She stopped a short distance from the end of the ward. A curtain was pulled around the bed, but she could just see the bottom of Severus' robes peeping around it. She moved closer and could hear a low humming sound from the bed. Severus had his back to her and didn't hear her footsteps, which gave her the chance to take in the fact that Vervain Snape was a very sick woman indeed. Her once pale skin was now a deathly white, stretched over her face like delicate tissue paper. Her hair hung about her face in long, dirty grey wisps, and the hands that clutched at the bedclothes were like fleshless claws. Her thin, bloodless lips were slightly pursed as she emitted the tuneless hum, and Maeve could feel the palpable sadness that poured from the bed. Vervain's eyes drifted without purpose around her small space, but when she saw Maeve they stopped, and for a moment Maeve thought they focused. She was almost sure she detected the faintest hint of smile play on the older witch's mouth. Severus leant forward quickly; he had also detected a shift in the woman's face. He touched her hand carefully, as if he didn't want the fragile bones to snap beneath his own, stronger ones.

"Mother?" he said. The word was a low, plaintive question. She had never heard him use that tone of voice before; there was a note of tenderness to it that ordinarily he would have kept well disguised. Vervain moved her mouth, but no sound came out of it. A flare of life lit her eyes and Severus turned his head, understanding swiftly that she was looking at something solid. Maeve froze under his stare as his eyes widened in dismay. She couldn't keep the pity from her face, and this enraged him.

"What are you doing here!" he hissed with undisguised hatred in his eyes. "You have no right!"

"I had to know," she said quietly. "Remus told me what you had said about having to come here, and I had to know why. You wouldn't tell me."

"And why do you think that was?"

"I don't know. I don't know why you don't trust me." She stood her ground as he rose suddenly and stepped towards her.

"Go back to your party with all your friends," he said slowly. "You don't need a dose of reality today. You need to hide yourself away from the consequences of darkness until the time is right for you to face it yourself."

"What happened to your mother?" she asked, choosing to ignore his dismissal.

"It doesn't matter to you," he replied, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

"It does," she argued. "Of course it does."

He watched her for a few moments before relenting. He had been on the point of telling her about this at Hogwarts, but Professor Dumbledore had come between them so he had given up on the idea. If he looked at it rationally, she had merely given him another opportunity to tell her by coming here unannounced. He waved at the other chair in the cubicle and she sat down by the bed, feeling the older woman's eyes on her. He sat back down and pulled the defence of his robes around him before speaking.

"My father beat her in a drunken rage." There was no trace of bitterness in his voice now; the tale was being told as if it had happened to someone else. "He was endlessly frustrated by his inability to progress within the hierarchy of the darker wizarding community. He had the money but, unfortunately, not the blood." His mouth twisted into a smile. "The money came from my mother's side of the family, although there was never a vast amount of it. You didn't saw my father as he really was, filled with the bitterness of unfulfilled ambition and the disappointment of a son who wasn't exactly… " he paused as if trying to find the right word, " …charismatic."

"You were incredibly intelligent at school," she began, but he stopped her with a smirk.

"Oh, Maeve, such _naiveté_. Intelligence didn't count for anything with my father. He wanted me to be popular, influential and, above all, dark. He supported Voldemort and feted people like the Malfoys, who used him – not that he didn't deserve that. He was a puppet of higher powers, with pretensions to becoming equal to those who pulled his strings. He didn't have the ability, the intelligence, or the magnetism to become one of the Dark Lord's true confidants, but he did have a house and sufficient connections to be of some use… and, of course, he had me to train, in the hope that one day I could be one of Voldemort's trusted servants."

"And you lived up to that particular ambition," she said caustically.

"I did, for a time." He stared at her with shadows in his eyes. "But you put paid to even that, didn't you?"

"I didn't ask you to do what you did," she said indignantly.

"You didn't need to."

The humming began again and they turned to his mother. There was now a very definite smile on her face, her eyes once again began to roam the room. Maeve sighed deeply and felt old wounds slowly opening, pouring out their latent hurt.

"But you did it anyway. Let's not go over that again." She turned her attention back to him. "How damaged is your mother?"

"She can't move, nor can she speak. She seems incapable of rational thought, although we can't know that for sure because she cannot communicate. The Healers can do nothing. She has been like this for ten years."

"And your father?"

There was a brittle laugh from Severus.

"He killed himself two months after he did this. A coward to the end, he couldn't face the consequences of his own evil."

Maeve couldn't understand how he could keep all of this pain and humiliation locked down inside of himself. She had always known that there was a reason for his hard attitude and unflinching joylessness, although she could never have guessed at the depth of his suffering. She instinctively reached out her hand to touch his face, but she stopped herself before he realised what she had been about to do. He wouldn't accept the gesture, so there was no point making it.

He halted, as if the effort of talking so much was draining him both physically and mentally. There was more, but he wasn't ready to tell her everything. He didn't think she needed to know that his father had encouraged his relationship with Maeve, unable to believe his anti-social and unappealing son had managed to land such a catch. Not only had he repeatedly gone on at length about her family's wealth, he had also told his son over and over that she belonged to one of the most powerful Pure-blood families there was in the British Isles. Kentigern Snape had begun to plan weddings in his mind's eye; he saw a long line of powerful descendants carrying the Snape name to greater, darker glory. Of course, none of this had come to pass, and he had blamed Severus entirely when Maeve was suddenly removed from the school. The beatings that summer had been the worst they had ever been, and he still bore some of the scars.

"There is nothing I can say," she said softly, "that will make any of that any better, but I wish you had told me sooner. I wish I could have understood sooner."

He shook his head.

"No, I didn't want you to understand. I didn't want to see the ghost of pity that is now hovering behind your eyes. I don't like pity; there is no room for it in my world. It is a thoroughly weak emotion that renders you vulnerable."

"That's your father talking," she said, shaking her head at him. "You have let your father use your mouth for far too long, Severus, and now you don't know how to speak for yourself."

"I wish you were right," he said. "But the truth is I am more like my father than I care to admit. I just manage to control it better. I want the same things he did. I want power and respect, I want recognition for the things I have achieved and, although I am not overly proud of this, I see nothing inherently wrong in wanting those things. I see that my father married the wrong woman and she suffered for that. She needn't have; he should have married someone stronger who would have stood up to him and helped him achieve his aims." His face became cold. She could feel him withdrawing from her. "He was right about you. You would have made an excellent partner for me, but I made one stupid mistake. I actually loved you. It was my undoing."

She bit her bottom lip in agitation. She wanted to believe he did not entirely mean all of these things, but she knew he did. His ambition probably outstripped that of his father, and given the right circumstances he could have been a truly great wizard. It was still possible that he would be great, but his attitude to some people was a hindrance to his true potential. She was aware for the first time of just how great a part she had played in his life, despite spending so little time in it. She had always known she had been the reason he had turned away from the dark side, but she had never fully understood how great he could have been had he kept going on the course his father had set for him.

"Better to be an average person than a great monster," she said under her breath as she rose from her seat.

"Is it?" he asked with a questioning look on his face. "Sometimes I am not so sure."

She gave him a small, sad smile and looked at Vervain, whose eyes stopped moving. Severus' mother gazed up from her bed, and slowly pale tears appeared in the corners of those limpid brown eyes. Maeve reached down and touched her cold hand.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Snape," she said, not knowing what she was apologising for, but feeling somehow she had failed the woman's son.

Vervain slowly and painfully moved her head from side to side. Severus was on his feet instantly and calling for a Healer. The two women, however, were oblivious to this. Their eyes meeting somewhere beyond the ward.

Light shifted and the space around them stirred; drifts of snow flurried down from an unseen sky. The Vervain that faced her was not the wizened creature that lay upon the bed, but the tall and willowy person she once was. She reached out her hand, taking Maeve's hands in her own. Cold death touched warm life, and a sweet, sad song filled the air.

"It's time for me to let him go," Vervain said, her lips unmoving. "I have held on to him for far too long. My husband killed me with his brutish hands, and yet I held on because I had to see; I had to make sure Severus would not descend into the depths of the darkness my husband knew. I know now that he will not, because you have prevented him from doing so. He needs to leave the past in the past and use his ambition for the force of good. You need to help him focus on this."

The snow began to fall more thickly and Maeve felt Vervain slipping further away from her; death was in the ward, but it was not unwelcome. She could see the other woman smiling radiantly at something in the middle distance.

"I have to go. It has been too long and the veil is waiting. Help him… help him to see the purity of the light rather than the empty seduction of the dark. I should have taken him away from that man, but I was weak. I have been stronger in death than I was in life, for all the good that has done him. I protected him from the physical blows but not the mental ones… put that right for me, daughter. Promise me."

"I promise."

Maeve found she was shaking with sadness as hot tears coursed down her cheeks. Vervain had called her daughter; if things had been different, she could well have been her daughter-in-law. The woman let go of her hands. For one extraordinary moment she thought she could see figures behind that of Vervain Snape, hands reaching out from somewhere beyond her line of vision. The snow was a wall of white now and she could feel the ground shifting beneath her feet. Her knees buckled and she was falling, falling endlessly it seemed until, with a sudden lurch, she stopped and found her cheek pressed to the cold linoleum of the floor of the Closed Ward.

"How could you be so stupid?"

She could see and hear Remus, but she wasn't really listening. Sitting alone with him in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, she felt as if she were still elsewhere. She could hear the cry of anguish repeating itself as Severus was told his mother had died. For all his hardness, he had still felt her death keenly. A Healer, who had been alarmed at her coldness and shallow breath, had taken her from the ward. It hadn't taken long for them to find out her identity and send a message to Professor Dumbledore, who had arrived swiftly to take her home. And now here she was, swaddled in a huge blanket, being plied with Firewhisky to warm her, and bombarded with affection and admonition in equal measure from a very worried Remus.

"I'm sorry," he said, instantly contrite. "We had no idea were you where, no idea if you were safe. After what happened at Hogwarts, we couldn't quite believe you had gone off on your own like that."

"How did you know?" she asked vacantly.

"Well, the fact that you weren't here did rather give the game away, and then Harry mentioned he might have seen you leave in the early hours." He was still frowning at her, but there was concern tempering the frown.

"Where is Severus?" she said, looking around as if expecting to find him there, lurking in the gloom of the room.

Remus sighed with exasperation.

"How much longer will this go on?" he asked.

"What?"

"This slavish devotion to a man who does not deserve it. Why can't you let him go?" Remus tried hard to keep the disapproval from his voice, but she heard it nonetheless.

"I can't let it go, Remus. I made a promise to his mother." She smiled at him, her face flushed.

"His mother is dead," Remus said, suddenly concerned for her sanity.

"I know, I spoke with her before she went."

"That's not possible."

"Of course it's possible, Remus, of course it is." She leant back and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "I think I want to sleep now."

Remus carried her up to her room and laid her down gently on her bed. He watched her sleep for a few moments, with an anxious look on his face, before leaving the room, weighed down with a feeling of impending doom.


	15. The End of the Beginning

She was awoken the following morning by the sound of movement outside her door. Several pairs of feet were hurrying down the corridor, and she could hear hushed conversations taking place. Maeve looked at the ceiling, with its flaking paint and depressing damp patches, wondering what the early activity was all about. A knock at the door announced the possibility of an explanation, so she propped herself up in bed as the door swung open. Remus popped his head into the room, swiftly followed by the rest of him. He was clutching a large, long package and wearing a rueful grin on his face.

"Good morning," he said lightly, receiving a wide smile in return. "Sleep well?"

"Very well, given the circumstances," she replied, casting a worried glance at the gift-wrapped package in his hand. There was no disguising the gift of a broomstick, and she had an awful feeling that Remus was living up to the promise he had made at the cottage back in the summer.

"I have to leave. We have an errand to run for Dumbledore. I wanted to give you this before I left." He held out the package to her, and she took it from him almost reluctantly.

"Oh, Remus, you shouldn't have," she said, slowly peeling back the wrapping to reveal a stunning, antique hazel broom that was beautifully handcrafted and clearly quite a few years old. At the back of her mind was the thought that he _really_ shouldn't have, because she would have to use it; it would seem churlish not to.

"I know you lack a broomstick. I also know you don't particularly like riding them, however, you need to have one, Maeve. You need to be able to move quickly and without the aid of the Floo network or Apparation." He looked at her face, well aware that she was probably wishing he had given her a nice book or a piece of jewellery, but Remus was ever practical. There would be a time for giving gifts that were pretty rather than useful; now was not that time.

"Thank you, Remus," she said, and she meant it. Running her fingers down the length of its shaft, she felt the warmth of the wood and the power contained within the well-oiled hazel. Old brooms didn't have the speed or manoeuvrability of the latest models, but they were unfailingly reliable, especially ones as fine as this one.

"I promise I will practice when I get back to Hogwarts," she said earnestly.

"When were you last on a broom?" he asked. "Just out of interest."

"Hmm… probably ten years ago, although it could be a little more."

He rolled his eyes and laughed.

"You are going to need an awful lot of practice. You really should have kept it up."

"I hate riding brooms though," she said with a touch of defiance in her voice. "It's so cold and draughty."

"That is no excuse," he said, giving her one last smile before becoming very serious.

"This errand for Dumbledore," he began, but his throat became dry and he had to cough before continuing. "It's serious and potentially dangerous. We have received some intelligence that a serious attack is about to take place. All Aurors and members of the Order are being mobilised. I will probably not be back at Hogwarts this term, and I'm not sure when I will see you again. You must take care of yourself. Better care than you took when you went running off into the forest, or that foolish thing you did yesterday."

Her face clouded at the mention of the events of Christmas Day, forcing her stubbornness to the surface.

"Maeve," he said in a very low voice. "You have got to stop putting yourself at risk. It's not a game, and it's not a competition between you and Harry as to who can be the most reckless. You have _got_ to slow down and be more cautious."

She gave a small nod, only partly accepting what he was saying. As far as she could see, both occasions he cited had resulted in something positive. Upsetting though both occurrences had been, without them she would not have met her real father, and Vervain Snape would still be enduring a living death. Admittedly, in both instances, she had fleetingly touched death itself, but ultimately, she had survived.

"I promise," she said solemnly, "that I will not do anything imprudent or rash."

Her eyes smiled at him, and although he didn't quite believe her, he accepted her word without demur. She clapped her hands together, leaping from the covers in a swirl of white silk. Despite their near-fraternal relationship, Remus couldn't help but avert his eyes at the sudden flash of legs she displayed as she bent to retrieve something from beneath the bed.

"I mustn't forget your gift," she said as she pulled out a large package and handed it to him. She leapt back up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged, watching with eager eyes as he began to tear open the silver wrapping paper. She looked on expectantly as he slowly revealed the many folds of light brown serge. It was only when he allowed the wrapping paper to fall away and held the robes up to the light that the delicate, embroidered symbols on the front could be seen. They glinted softly in the candlelight and she allowed herself a moment of pride in her achievement. It had taken two months of painstaking close work to embroider the magic into the fabric, but it was a powerful protective enchantment that would hopefully shield him from some of the danger he would be facing. He looked at her with deep affection.

"Did you do this?" he asked, his fingers skirting over the brown, silken thread that formed shapes and symbols that were beyond his understanding. She nodded and jumped off the bed to throw the robes around his shoulders.

"Do you like it?" she asked, unexpectedly acting like a child seeking approval from its parent. Stepping back, she surveyed the results, and was pleased to see that with a decent set of robes he was quite transformed. "You look very dapper."

"I love it," Remus said. He felt the ancient magic running through the warp and the weft of the fabric. It cloaked him with such affection that he was reluctant to remove the garment.

"Good," she said happily. "My grandmother taught me those symbols. They aren't failsafe, but they will afford you some reassurance when things become difficult."

A sharp rap at the door made them both jump, and they heard Kingsley calling for Remus.

"It's time, Remus," he said in a composed voice. "We have to go."

"I'm coming," Remus replied before stepping closer to Maeve. "Come what may, Maeve, you must remember that, since I've known you, my life has been a better thing. I am grateful for everything you have brought me: laughter, a sense of fun, a terrifying few hours in a car, but most of all, love. I wasn't convinced about the brother/sister act we had to perform, but it really wasn't so hard to do with someone who feels as close as a real sister could ever have been. Take care." He touched her cheek with a warm hand and she slipped between the fabric of his robe for one last hug. Beneath the thin silk of her nightdress she felt slender and brittle. Remus once again felt a wave of fear for her safety. She was so light and outwardly insubstantial when compared with the evil they faced that it was hard to see how she could survive.

"You must go," she said, reluctantly pushing him away from her. "But when you can, you must let me know where you are and what you are doing."

"Of course," he replied. There was such finality to this parting that it tore at them both. Remus had a heavy heart; he turned away and opened her bedroom door. With one last flicker of recognition he was gone, and the door closed heavily behind him. She slipped a robe around her shoulders and padded out onto the corridor. Making her way to the head of the stairs, she found them all congregating in the hallway. Molly was weeping softly in the corner, both Charlie and Bill trying to comfort her, unsuccessfully. Arthur seemed to be the one shepherding the troops towards the door. She could see Hermione busily rushing about, handing out last-minute supplies to everyone, a forgotten hat here or an overlooked scarf there. There was something touching about the whole scene as kisses were given and received. The door swung quickly open to allow them all to file out into the dark, bitter morning with their brooms in their hands. Remus did not look back, and for that she was thankful. She would have hated to cry, as she stood alone and shivering on the cold staircase of Grimmauld Place.

The house echoed with emptiness when they had all left, and Maeve slipped silently back to her room to dress before coming down to breakfast. The smell of burnt toast and coffee greeted her as she opened the kitchen door. She was faced with the grim prospect of eating breakfast with a still weeping Molly. Harry sat there with a closed look on his face, Hermione ate in silence, and Ron was busily shoving food into his mouth. There was no one else in the kitchen, and as far as she was aware, the house. Harry gave her a half-smile as she sat next to him and she took a piece of the blackened toast, scraping away the worst of the scorched bread with her knife. Hermione was looking at her curiously, and Ron continued to shovel very dry scrambled eggs onto his fork.

"Is it true?" Harry asked her as she finished her last mouthful of toast.

"Is what true?" she looked at him questioningly. Molly stopped her quiet sobbing to half-heartedly tell Harry to leave Maeve alone, but her eyes were so red and swollen and she seemed so distracted that no one really took any notice of her.

"Did you see Snape's mother die?" Harry said, and Hermione winced at his tactlessness.

"Yes," Maeve answered before sipping coffee and regarding Harry with interest. "Why?"

"What was it like?"

"Harry!" Hermione interjected, scandalised by his brutal question.

"It's all right, Hermione," Maeve said evenly. "Harry is right to be curious."

Maeve knew that Harry had felt somehow cheated by Sirius' death; it had been so abrupt that he hadn't been allowed to deal with its immediate effects. Sirius had been swept away so quickly that he hadn't had the chance to spend a few minutes with Harry to explain his death, whereas Vervain had been happy to tell Maeve her reasons for going. That had afforded the woman some level of dignity in death. Crucially, it had been her choice, but Sirius had been torn cruelly from the world and those he loved.

"She was happy to go, Harry," Maeve explained. "She had hung on for too long, and she needed to know that she could leave with her mind at ease."

"But why, why was she happy to die? How can she have been happy to die?" Harry looked disbelieving. Despite the comforting words of Professor Dumbledore the previous summer when he had impressed upon Harry that death was merely the beginning of an even greater adventure, Harry still couldn't understand how death could be anything other than the end.

"Because she had no life," Maeve explained. "It is a terrible thing to simply exist, Harry, and be deprived of all the things that make life worth living. To be unable to communicate with loved ones, to be closed off from the world… it is unimaginable." Maeve looked away then, reminded of her own life spent away from friends and unable to communicate. She had felt a small part of Vervain Snape's pain and could understand why the woman had wanted to move on.

"Why'd she wait so long then?" Ron asked, after the last remnants of his egg had been swallowed.

"Because she felt she had to pass something on, and once she was happy that had been done she could let go."

"What did she pass on?" Hermione asked. She was unable to suppress her curiosity now that Maeve seemed happy to answer questions.

"It doesn't really matter what it was, the point is she felt able to let go." Her answer was evasive, but Maeve knew she couldn't share that particular piece of information with anyone.

"Did she speak to you?" Harry continued, his desperation to understand the mechanics of death overriding any thought for Maeve's feelings.

"Yes, she did, but not in the way we are speaking now. She did it using her mind." The memory was still vivid in Maeve's head and she could see the woman as she looked towards the veil; the happiness was undeniable.

"And what did Snape do while you were talking to her?" Harry said, unable to keep the tinge of bitterness out of his voice.

"I don't know," she said. "I didn't see him, although he was very upset, naturally, at his mother's death."

"I can't imagine that slimy git being upset over anything," Ron said with a smirk.

"Ronald Weasley!" Molly seemed to have been shaken out of her sorrow by her son's harsh words. "How could you be so cruel? No matter what you think of Professor Snape, he has just lost his mother. A little respect wouldn't go amiss."

She swept towards Ron and began collecting the breakfast plates. "We have all got a lot on our minds, Ron, and you would do well to remember that!" she added as the plates clattered together dangerously in her hands.

"I know, Mum, I know." Ron looked suitably abashed as he thought of his four brothers and father, all of whom had gone out that morning with no guarantees that they would return. It still didn't allow him to feel any sympathy for Snape though; the Potions teacher still deserved everything he got, as far as Ron was concerned anyway.

Maeve pushed her chair back from the table, signifying the end of the discussion, and with a promise to be back in a minute, dashed up to her room. She returned with a handful of packages, which she immediately handed out to the glum faces that were still sitting around the kitchen table. They instantly brightened up at being given gifts, and Ron was first to have his open. It was a small, thin card wrapped in sparkling amber paper, but if the size of the present was disappointing then what it contained more than made up for it. Ron pulled out a white and orange envelope that, once opened, revealed a golden ticket.

"Oh, WOW!" he gasped as he waved it around in the air. "It's a season ticket to all the Chudley Cannons' home games. That's amazing! They're almost impossible to get. Thank you so much, Prof!" He grinned at Maeve, who laughed at his delighted response. Hermione opened hers next and discovered a year's subscription to_ Witch Books, _the monthly review magazine that surveyed all the latest wizarding books. The first magazine was included and she immediately buried her nose in it with a grateful thank you to Maeve. Molly received a voucher for a weekend at _'The Witches' Welcome Retreat Perfect Pampering for the Stressed Witch.'_ She gave Maeve a tearful hug in appreciation of the thoughtful gift, although secretly she had no idea when she would find the time to go.

Harry sat looking at the large, flat, rectangular package on the table in front of him for a few moments before gingerly pulling away the wrapping to reveal a textbook. It was covered in burgundy leather with the title impressed on the front in gilt letters, _Complex Charms for the Advanced Student by Circe Mackintosh_. Harry smiled his thanks as he picked up the book, but he was a little disappointed that it wasn't something more Quidditch orientated. Still, a book of advanced Charms would certainly help him with his studies.

"Open it, Harry," Maeve said gently.

He flicked open the cover to the flyleaf and could see neat handwriting that formed a message written in blue ink.

'Property of Lily Evans. Please do not steal this book as it's Charmed and I can't be held responsible for the consequences.'

He held his breath as he ruffled a few of the pages. On every one there was some sort of annotation. They were all in the same neat handwriting, all intelligent observations on the Charms and the outcomes of practical experiments. His eyes grew slightly damp as he realised he was holding one of his mother's schoolbooks in his hands. It was such a personal thing; much more so than photographs or even his father's Invisibility Cloak. This book contained the essence of his mother, and he could almost smell her in its pages. He glanced up at Maeve with over-bright eyes and murmured a thank you.

"You are welcome, Harry. She lent it me during our final term because I was never as good at Charms as she was, and she did everything to help me. Of course, when my… when Niall took me out of school, it was with all my other books. I never did get around to sending it back to her, perhaps I didn't want to." She smiled and laid a hand on Harry's head. "There is no doubt in my mind she would want you to have it."

Hermione looked a little tearful and Ron muttered something about it being 'a lovely idea' before leaving the table to help his mother with the washing up. This was an event so rare that Molly looked at him in shock for a moment before handing him the plates to put away.

"I think I will go and read it in my room," Harry said with a sigh. He looked around at the four people in the room and felt they had been joined by a fifth. He could feel his mother's presence as he had never done before, and as his fingers moved over the burgundy leather, he could hear her laughter… not the scream that the Dementors brought, but a faint, joyous, girlish laugh. He glanced quickly at Maeve, and her knowing smile led him to believe she had heard it too.

Maeve looked around quickly, suddenly aware there was someone missing, a fact that was confirmed by the unopened present left on the table.

"Where's Ginny?" she asked.

"Luna and her father came round first thing this morning and asked if she would like to spend a few days with them," Hermione said as she stood up and took her plates over to Molly. "They seem to be getting on very well, and I think it will be nice for Ginny to have a break from all of this."

"A break from all of what?" Ron demanded.

"Well it's not exactly the happiest place at the moment, is it?" she answered, throwing a meaningful look towards Molly Weasley. "Things are a little strained, Ron, or hadn't you noticed?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered. "I suppose so."

The rest of the day was spent in listless boredom. Maeve couldn't settle to anything and found she was constantly looking out of various windows throughout the house. There was no way of contacting anyone and she had no idea of Severus' state of mind, so she didn't want to risk an owl to either the hospital or his house. Harry was happily spending time with his mother, care of the Charms book, and Hermione was busy reading her new magazine, circling anything of interest to persuade her parents to buy at a later date. Ron had resigned himself to reading the _History of the Chudley Cannons_ that the twins had bought him for Christmas, and Molly was knitting furiously in the drawing room. Expectation hung heavy in the air; only Molly knew the true nature of the mission, which was why she had been crying so concertedly throughout the day. Maeve had asked her about it but she had refused to be drawn. As far as Molly was concerned, it was bad enough she carried the burden without passing it on to others.

At five past three Maeve felt such a feeling of melancholy overcome her that tears came unbidden from her eyes and she found herself crying in the hallway, much to her own consternation. A chill had filled the house and the curtain that covered Mrs Black fluttered out between the cloaks. Echoes of the old woman's poison filled the cold space, making Maeve shiver violently before opening the front door. She had no idea why she had opened it or why, given the sudden temperature drop, she should be allowing even colder air into the house. She stood on the doorstep in full view of the empty square that was shrouded in snow and wondered what was happening to their friends.

The black-robed figure stood out in sharp relief against the winter-white snow, its shoulders hunched against the softly drifting flakes, and without seeing the face Maeve knew it was Severus. With little thought for her safety or the security of Grimmauld Place, and thus failing to heed Remus' warnings, she stepped out into the darkening December day to meet Severus in the street. He glanced up as he heard her approach, and immediately his face showed displeasure.

"What are you doing outside?" he barked at her, his voice hoarse and his eyes deadened. "The door is open and unguarded."

He clasped her arm tightly, propelling her towards the open door, muttering curses as he did so. Once inside, he locked the cold out and faced her with a face more chilly than any natural element.

"That was foolish," he said, unconsciously echoing Remus' sentiments. "Where are the rest of them?"

"Why?" she asked, awareness creeping over her that this wasn't a social call. Something in his eyes alerted her to the fact he brought news, and she realised her sudden melancholy had simply been a warning of this.

"I need to speak to you all, including the children." His face showed real disdain at the mention of the children, but she ignored it and led him up to the drawing room where Molly was still clacking her needles together in fury. When she saw Severus' foreboding figure, she shot to her feet, sending the ball of knitting wool rolling nervously onto the floor.

"Severus?" The name was a question filled with hope and fear.

"Sit down, Mrs Weasley," he said abruptly, and she did so with a desperate glance at Maeve, who slipped out into the corridor and shouted for Harry, Hermione and Ron at the top of her voice. Severus rolled his eyes wildly at the racket but he couldn't help shooting Molly a mildly concerned glance. What he had to divulge would not be easy for her to hear, and he hoped that she could keep her histrionics to a minimum. He hated having to do this sort of thing, so he was considerably happier when Maeve re-entered the room. If Molly Weasley did have hysterics, at least Maeve would be able to deal with her.

Once all the inhabitants of the house were congregated in the drawing room with faces that displayed a mixture of alarm and dislike, Maeve closed the door with an ominous crack. She stood at Severus' side in a subconscious display of support that, although he didn't openly acknowledge it, he certainly felt.

"I have news," he said brusquely. "It is not good."

Molly quivered and pulled Ron closer to her.

"Azkaban has fallen," he said, his icy tones making the news even more excruciating. "There was a battle. We lost several people."

"Oh no," Molly's voice was weak with dread. "The children?" She thought of the clock that she had brought with her from the Burrow. She had left it in the kitchen, all its hands pointing to _Mortal Peril_; they never pointed anywhere else any more.

"Who, Professor?" Hermione asked urgently.

"Several people that you don't know," he said curtly to Hermione before returning his attention to Molly. "But," he hesitated only briefly, "I'm afraid Bill was killed by one of the Dark Lord's servants."

He turned away from the blank faces that bored into him, wanting more information than he could give. Death seemed to be everywhere and with death came people seeking comfort. He felt Maeve's presence beside him and knew he had yet to deal with her and the circumstances surrounding his mother's death, a prospect that he wasn't relishing.

Everyone and everything in the house heard Molly's keening cry while Ron's horrified face looked at his friends in disbelief.

"Not my Bill?" Molly said finally when her cry had died down. "That's not possible, he can't be dead… not my boy. It can't be true!"

"Oh, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said as she rose from the chair and went to comfort the distraught woman.

"What happened to the Death Eaters in Azkaban?" Harry said in a hard voice, he could visualise the triumphant face of both Lucius and Draco Malfoy. The thought made him feel sick inside.

Severus turned slowly.

"What do you think happened to them, Mr Potter? They are free." Severus glared at Harry, who immediately leapt to his feet in anger.

"And I bet you're pleased about that, aren't you? All your old friends out of prison!" His green eyes blazed as he squared up to his former Potions master. "Is it tempting to join them again?"

"Harry!" Maeve snapped suddenly. "Don't do this."

"No, let him continue with his fantasies," Severus said, looking at Harry with contempt. "His father was just the same; couldn't see the truth even when it was placed before him."

"The only truth is that you killed Sirius," Harry said, his voice rising dramatically. "You did nothing to help him, or the Order, and it resulted in his death."

"Harry, you know that's not true!" Maeve immediately put herself between Severus and Harry. She was aware that at this time, a confrontation would not be helpful, especially as Molly had just learned of the death of her son. "I suggest you help Ron, you of all people should be able to offer him some comfort now."

Harry glanced across at his friend, who was watching them with a blank expression on his face; he was busy pretending he hadn't heard the bad news and that it would all be put right in a few minutes. Harry made a move towards Severus and then thought better of it. Instead, he walked across to his friend and took him by the arm.

"C'mon, Ron," he said. "Let's get out of here, give your mum some time to talk about things."

Whatever those things were, Ron didn't care as he stood up and allowed Harry to lead him from the room while Hermione watched them go with an anguished look. Molly continued to grip her arm tightly and Hermione felt the pressing need to stay with her.

"How, Severus?" Molly asked. "How did my son die?"

"I don't know the details. It was a hurried owl from Professor Dumbledore. Azkaban is deserted, the prisoners have fled and there were a number of casualties. We will have to wait for more details." He watched her warily, still expecting a further outburst of emotion.

She began to sob quietly again. Severus gave Maeve a look that clearly said he didn't like all this weeping and wailing. Hermione seemed to be doing an admirable job of comforting the distressed Molly, so Maeve hurriedly led Severus from the room and down into the kitchen. It was warmer and there was the promise of some liquid refreshment.

"Have you heard anything from Remus?" she asked as she poured him a glass of Firewhisky.

"No," he said quickly, wincing at the mention of Lupin "I have heard as much as I have already told you."

He took in her hurt expression and he experienced a moment of remorse for his curt manner.

"I'm sorry," he said in a rare display of apology. "We knew this would come, so we shouldn't be surprised." He drank deeply from the glass; the bitter sting hit the back of his throat, working its way to his stomach, where it burned like a dormant flame.

"I can't believe Bill is dead," she said, remembering the laughing young man of just a few nights ago and his comforting words to his mother that very morning. It had taken a death to bring home the terror they were about to face; until you knew someone who had died, it was all just a vague threat, an uncomfortable thought at the back of your mind. But now it was real and it meant they were all vulnerable.

"We knew," he insisted. "We knew what this war would mean."

"But that doesn't make it any easier!" she shouted. "It doesn't make it any less dreadful or futile or unnecessary."

"Don't be such an idealist, Maeve," he said bitterly. "How can you be so naïve, with your background? I would have thought that amount of reality would prepare you for anything. Your father having your mother killed, your grandmother dying for you… surely you must realise that life is one big series of sacrifices and disappointments."

"What did you say?" she said, her eyes burning dangerously as she looked into Severus' clouded face.

"Must I repeat it?" he sighed.

"What did you say about my father killing my mother?" She crossed the kitchen and grabbed his arms with such ferocity that he dropped his glass and it shattered against the hard stone of the kitchen floor. He looked into her for a few moments and it was long enough for him to realise that she had no idea about the moral crime Niall O'Malley had committed all those years ago. He couldn't understand why Dumbledore hadn't told her; it hadn't been common knowledge and there had been no trial, but it had been recognised that the death of Grainne O'Malley had been a direct result of her husband's imprudence.

"Niall killed my mother?" she said. "That man killed my mother?" Her face twisted in hatred and pain. Severus felt her nails dig into his flesh through his robe.

"I thought you knew," he said, carefully prising her hands from his arms.

"No, of course I didn't know." Her face hardened and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. "What did he do?"

Severus sighed. It seemed he had inadvertently walked from one emotional minefield into another, and he was beginning to wish he had never opened his mouth.

"He lost her in a bet," he began reluctantly. "He gambled heavily, and not just within his own circle of friends. He bet her life on the turn of a card and he lost. It was pure wickedness that killed your mother… a particularly nasty wizard who insisted he claim his winnings."

"What was that wizard's name?" she asked, her voice a rasp.

"I never knew, but Dumbledore would know," Severus said as she bored into him with eyes that burned with undisguised hatred for Niall O'Malley.

"How could he bet my mother's life? What sort of evil game was he playing, and what sort of twisted soul would claim the life of another because they won a card game? This is never-ending," she said despairingly. "Do the lies go on for ever? Do the revelations never stop? At least you knew all the things your father did; at least you were under no illusions about your family. I always knew mine were a little unusual, but this… it's like hearing of her death all over again."

"No, the lies don't go on for ever," he said, a gentle note creeping into his voice. "But you have to learn to deflect the hurt they cause and continue to cause, even when you know the truth."

A noise from the hallway brought their conversation to an abrupt halt and Severus quickly drew his wand. He rushed from the kitchen in a flurry of black robes and Maeve followed him with her wand at the ready. They needn't have worried though, because standing in the hall was a weary-looking Professor Dumbledore with his hat slightly askew and snow clinging to his long beard.

"Where is Molly?" he asked resignedly, as they both put their wands away.

"In the drawing room," Maeve said from behind Severus. "Why?"

"I'm afraid the news is much worse than we first thought. It's Arthur." Dumbledore looked more distressed than she had ever seen him and she found herself clutching at Severus' robes. For once, he didn't twitch them out of her hands. In fact, as Dumbledore mounted the stairs to the drawing room, Severus took her in his arms and allowed her to stay there. Strangely, she found little comfort in the gesture, and as fresh wails of despair came from the drawing room, she recognised the fact that in order to get through the immediate future she would have to harden her heart to the bad news that would undoubtedly continue to arrive.

Severus was relieved to find she did not dissolve into tears and was more than a little thankful when she pulled away from him, straightening her shoulders defiantly.

Dumbledore, having delivered his bombshell, was now making his way down the stairs as Harry and Ron came running at the sound of Molly's fresh cries.

"What's happened now?" Harry asked.

"Ron, I think you should go and see your mother," Dumbledore said flatly. As Ron obediently turned towards the drawing room Harry made to follow him, but Dumbledore called his name.

"Harry, I need you," he said quietly. "And you and Maeve," he added, turning to Severus.

As Harry joined the trio in the hallway Dumbledore laid a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I need you to return to Hogwarts. It is the safest place I can think of for all of you. There is no doubt that you are probably very high up on Voldemort's list of people he wants dead, and whilst I think Harry is not in immediate danger, I still need you safe."

He turned to Maeve and gave her a sad look.

"We have to move now, and move quickly. From what we can gather from information gained during this skirmish at Azkaban, you are being actively hunted, and we must move you immediately. I am fairly sure Grimmauld Place is secure, but I can't take any chances, and Hagrid is waiting outside to escort you all back to Hogwarts. Between the four of you, I am confident you will be able to protect yourselves against an attack. The Death Eaters will be too busy celebrating their escape to move tonight, but you never know," he mused. "I wouldn't put it past Lucius Malfoy to try and gain some glory from this. He needs to regain Voldemort's trust."

"Very well, Professor," Severus said calmly. He reached across to the coat stand and took down Maeve's robe, handing it to her as Harry grabbed his own.

"Make sure you all have your wands. Everything else will be sent on to you," Dumbledore said to the sombre threesome as he opened the door and looked uneasily out into the darkness.

Hagrid's huge figure stood there with three Thestrals cropping the grass in the middle of the square, and by his side stood the unmistakable figure of Buckbeak. The Hippogriff was an abrupt reminder to Harry of the events of two years ago when they had rescued Sirius from the clutches of the Dementors with the help of Buckbeak and a Time-Turner. The pain of the memory was tempered somewhat by the sight of Hagrid, and Harry's eyes lit up as he took in the gigantic figure of their Care of Magical Creatures teacher. He had been absent for so long that Harry had been more concerned for his safety than at any other time. He grinned widely as Harry peered out from behind Maeve and Severus.

"Well then, 'Arry. Long time no see, eh?" He grinned from ear to ear and Harry rushed out into the night to give him a huge, grateful hug. "Seems I'm always swoopin' down to get you out of some tight spot now, doesn't it?"

He stepped back and nodded towards the professors, who stood watching from the doorway.

"Come along then?" he said, nodding at the Thestrals. "I'll be ridin' Buckbeak and the rest of you will be takin' the Thestrals. D'you think you can manage all right?" he asked, looking doubtfully at Maeve and Severus, who both nodded, although Maeve's nod was considerably more confident than Severus'. Maeve paused for a moment, looking towards Dumbledore with questioning eyes. The news about her mother had made her hungry for some sort of revenge, despite the fact she wasn't a vengeful person. As the headmaster gazed back at her, she realised now wasn't the time. She would put this to the back of her mind for now and let it fester, but at some point she would need to take care of it.

Severus and Maeve moved quickly out into the pale moonlight to join Harry, who immediately grasped the mane of the nearest Thestral and flung himself up onto the creature's back. Maeve followed suit; her years spent on horseback meant she could easily lift herself onto the back of the creature. She looked instantly at home. The same could not be said for Severus, however, who took several minutes to get on top of the thing as it moved away from him and attempted to butt his legs as he endeavoured to mount it. Once up on the back of the black being, he looked extremely uncomfortable and gave a low groan as it suddenly thrashed its wings and rose into the dark sky.

The three Thestrals flew in complete synchronisation behind Hagrid, who the lead on Buckbeak. Their wings beat in unison as they made their way through the cold and unwelcoming night towards Hogwarts and the relative safety of its walls. The moon dipped and flickered behind clouds as they occasionally flew through a snowstorm, which left them clinging to their mounts in shivering misery. Only Hagrid seemed unconcerned by the discomfort caused by the journey as he kept a close eye on his charges. Maeve occasionally stole a glance at Severus, but in the darkness she could see nothing more than a black outline occasionally brought into focus by the appearance of the waning moon. She was thankful the Thestrals knew where they were going because in this blackness she would have had no idea.

The journey proved to be a long one. The first warm tinges of dawn were streaking the sky when they caught their first flash of the lake, and Harry gave a relieved cry when the shimmering turrets of Hogwarts finally came into view. It was the end of the beginning of the war, and they were all grimly aware that things were about to get much worse.


	16. Experiments

Harry spent the next few days roaming the castle aimlessly. Ron was still in London with his mother and Hermione, their time taken up with fruitless visits to St Mungo's, where Arthur lay unconscious. The news had not been quite as bad as they had first surmised, but from Molly's point of view it was as bad as it could be; one son dead, and her husband the victim of a charm that no one could find a cure for. She was running herself ragged trying to care for Ron, Ginny and Hermione, although the older girl had proved to be an invaluable help with the general chores around Grimmauld Place, and of course, she provided a sympathetic ear for Ron. Harry missed his friends dreadfully. He wanted to provide some support for Ron, knowing only too well just how bad Ron would be feeling. In some way it alleviated his own grief, which was still sharp, even though the months were speeding by at a rapid rate.

He had managed to avoid Professor Snape although, annoyingly, he seemed to be monopolising Maeve's time, and Harry barely saw her either. He was rather put out by this; what could they possibly be talking about that took up so much time? All Harry had ever seen them do was argue and snipe at each other in a particularly vindictive way, so he couldn't understand this sudden closeness. Hagrid was equally preoccupied with something that he was keeping secret from everyone. He had constructed what looked like a stable using wood cut from the forest. There was no doubt he had used a little magic in the building because there wasn't a nail in sight, and this added further to Harry's suspicions that Hagrid's battered umbrella was, indeed, the remnants of the wand that had been snapped years ago when Hagrid had been expelled.

Three days after they had arrived back at Hogwarts, Harry decided to take a walk in the grounds. He came to the conclusion that, as long as he kept close to the school building, he would get away with it. The Ministry had spared two Aurors, who regularly patrolled the grounds and building, but they had been keeping a closer eye on Maeve than on him, which was quite all right as far as Harry was concerned. He could hear the clatter of buckets and the noise of hooves from behind Hagrid's hut. Harry wondered what Hagrid was doing with the Thestrals, but before he could head off to find out, he heard a slightly raised voice and recognised it as that of the Potions master. The voice came from a bench that was partially shielded by several tall conifers, and he found that if he moved closer, he could hear without being seen.

"You would be mad to even try it," Severus was saying. "When you mentioned it before I thought you were talking abstractions, not reality."

"But Dumbledore is convinced it would work." Harry was unsurprised to hear Maeve's voice reply.

"Professor Dumbledore is a great man. However, when it comes to Potions he is not an expert. The combination of an untested potion with Wolfsbane could be disastrous."

Harry was instantly intrigued. They must be talking about something to do with werewolves, and that could mean only one person.

"But he could stop taking the Wolfsbane. We could conduct a controlled experiment; keep Remus safe while we tried the new potion." She was pleading with Severus now, and Harry could just imagine the tall man's frosty face as he looked down his long nose at her.

"A controlled experiment on a werewolf? That's one of the most foolish things I have ever heard you say. And I seem to remember you chastising me when I referred to Lupin as anything other than Remus, yet here you are, planning to use him like a laboratory experiment to prove a point about a potion."

"That is not true!" Maeve's voice rose angrily. "It's to help Remus. I don't care if I never use the potion again, as long as it's of some benefit to him."

"Please, stop indulging in nonsense," he sneered. "You would be more likely to kill him than cure him. A witch as skilled in Potions as you should be well aware of the dangers inherent in such a rash idea."

"It was Dumbledore's idea," she reminded him. "He mentioned it to me when I first arrived here, and he mentioned it to me again the other day."

Harry heard her stand up and was about to move away, when Severus seemed to give in a little.

"Where is this formula?" he asked coldly. "I suppose there is little harm in taking a look. At least then I will have firm grounds for dismissing the idea."

"It's in my room, in one of my grandmother's old books. I can fetch it for you later if you'd like," Maeve replied with a satisfied ring in her voice.

"I don't particularly _like_. However, if it stops another of your madcap schemes, then I fear I must," he replied.

Harry could hear the soft rustle of Severus' robe as he moved, so Harry quickly stepped back. Unfortunately, he didn't see the tree stump behind him, and as he flew backwards he couldn't help but give a small yelp of surprise. A hot feeling crept up his face as he realised he was about to be discovered eavesdropping, but fate stepped in in the form of Hagrid, whose voice rang out just as Severus was about to shoot round the edge of the trees. The slight hesitation caused by Hagrid's call gave Harry the time to scramble back along the path and round the corner of the school, just as Severus reached the place Harry had been standing.

Severus looked around warily, but the footprints left in the snow only confirmed that someone had been there; they left no indication as to whom that person may have been, although Severus had his suspicions.

"Mr Potter," he whispered under his breath. "Sneaking around again, are we?"

He quickly returned to Maeve, answering her questioning glance with a shake of his head.

"No idea," he said. "Probably a stray student, there are a few of them around."

"Now then!" Hagrid boomed as he reached them. "I've got a surprise for you, Professor O'Malley, an' I think yer goin' ter like it."

"Really?" Maeve asked apprehensively. She was only too aware of Hagrid's reputation when it came to surprises, and she didn't know whether to be pleased or afraid.

"I do," he said, with a very satisfied expression on his face. "An' I'll take yer to it now, if you'd like."

"Ermm." She glanced at Severus, who allowed a rare, satisfied smile to play on his lips.

"Oh, yes," he breathed acidly. "I think you should go with Hagrid. I'm sure that whatever it is, you will love it."

He gave a little snort of amusement, before turning around and heading back to the school. He was still smiling when he walked through the main doors.

"Well then, Hagrid." Maeve watched Severus walk away with a disgusted expression on her face. He could at least have offered her the moral support of his presence, if he was going to encourage Hagrid in such a way. "I suppose we had better see what you have for me, hadn't we?" She forced a smile as she followed the shuffling giant of a man back to his hut.

She couldn't help but be curious when she clapped eyes on the haphazard construction that had been erected behind Hagrid's home. It was a square structure, which was undoubtedly a stable, but quite unlike any stable that she had ever seen before. The wood was roughly-cut planks that still had their bark on them and the occasional bit of moss, while the roof was made from the branches of fir trees, which sat atop the stable with no obvious means of anchoring them down. The bottom door was closed, but the top door hung open, apparently without the need for hinges or bolts.

"It's lovely," she said, looking up at Hagrid with a questioning expression on her face. "But what's it for?"

"Well, why don't yer 'ave a look?" Hagrid asked. His grin grew ever wider, making Maeve even more nervous. There was now a faint rustle coming from the stable as something moved around inside it.

"It won't bite, will it? Whatever it is?" Maeve asked as she walked hesitantly towards the doors.

Hagrid frowned for a moment, as if the question had never occurred to him before.

"Well now, I don' know," he said. "It's got a lot of teeth, but they're not right sharp, so yer should be fine." He gave her an encouraging smile, folding his huge arms across his ample chest.

She reached the door and heard a soft whickering sound as a large head loomed across the open half. Huge brown eyes stared out, and the head suddenly bobbed up and down merrily as the animal pawed the ground in excitement.

"Oh!" Maeve exclaimed. "Oh, I don't believe it!" Her voice dropped to a whisper as she breathed the horse's name. "Saoirse."

Her face radiated happiness as she ran her hand down the warm neck of her horse, which immediately began rooting around in her robes for a treat.

"No, you naughty beast," she laughed, tapping the chestnut nose playfully.

"See, I knew you'd be pleased," Hagrid said proudly. "Brought her back meself. Took a ruddy good concealment charm to get her out of that old 'ouse of yours. There were a few hairy moments, I can tell yeh. But here she is."

Hagrid watched as Maeve opened the door and led the horse out onto the grass.

"She's very pretty like," he said as he watched the happy reunion. "Very pretty, but doesn't do much. Just eats from wha' I can see. Do they 'ave any magic in them?"

"No," Maeve smiled. "No magic. They are just good friends and fun to ride, exhilarating in fact."

"And that's a strange name," he said. "Saor… whatsit."

"It's pronounced Seersha." She laughed as he struggled to articulate the name.

The horse whirled around her, clearly ready for a trip out that didn't involve a huge human staring at her waiting for her to do something unusual.

"But how on earth did you know about her? Why get her out now, after all this time?" Maeve was looking at the protruding ribs and the welts that scarred her flank, and with a sinking feeling, realised she had not been treated well.

"It were Professor Dumbledore that ordered it. Said he wanted everything of yours out of that place, and we managed it," Hagrid said, with a pleased look on his face. "Every last thing. It's all up in yer rooms now. Well, except yer friend here."

She shook her head in disbelief.

"I can't believe Dumbledore would risk someone's life to get my things away from Abbeylara. That's just madness, Hagrid." She looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

"He'd 'ave had a reason. Professor Dumbledore always 'as a reason. Maybe there's something in there he thinks you should 'ave."

"Well, I can't imagine what." She grabbed at the animal's halter. "Not today, madam," she said to the horse, before leading her back into the stable and closing the door. The horse's head dropped sadly, but Maeve rubbed her nose and promised to come back the following day. Saoirse was the perfect name for her. It meant freedom in the Irish language. For many years Maeve had only felt free when she rode the horse across the fields and hills of Abbeylara.

"All her things are in the hut, the saddle and whatnot. I'll give 'em a polish for you later." Hagrid glanced up at the sky as snow began to fall again. "You'd best be getting yerself back up to the castle; you don't want ter be out in this weather again."

Maeve felt the first flakes land on her face and found she couldn't agree more. The storms they had endured when they had flown up here contained enough snow to last her a lifetime. With several more hurried words of appreciation to Hagrid, Maeve sped away towards the school entrance.

The school was still very much an echoing, empty place, with only a handful of students and one or two teachers. A shadow in an alcove reminded her that there were also two Aurors around and they were dogging her steps wherever she went. They were very good at their job as she rarely saw them, but she could feel their presence, and it was unsettling. Firenze met her as he came out of the staff room and bowed his head to her.

"I was sorry to hear about your friends," he said quietly.

"Well," she began, "I barely knew them, although I do know Molly Weasley quite well and, of course, Ron Weasley is one of my students. What happened is a sad, but inevitable, outcome of this war."

"I understand that Azkaban is now open," he said, keeping his luminous eyes on her face.

"Yes, apparently so." Her own eyes wavered as she caught another glimpse of a shadow by the door. "It will be no easy task for the Hit Wizards, keeping track of all those criminals."

"You seem distracted," he observed.

"Oh, it's these Aurors," she explained. "I know they are here for my own good, but it's so odd knowing they are following me around. You'd think Harry would be far more important than I am."

"Ah." Firenze gave her a knowing look. "You see, Voldemort now knows that you are alive and he must eliminate you before he can get to Harry. For him to face Harry with you alive would be a dangerous move on his part."

"Well, I don't know why," she said irritably. "All these bloody prophecies! It's all so vague. How can one know what they mean?"

"The future is not for us to know in detail." Firenze closed his eyes for a moment, as if looking into another world. "It is enough to know that you must keep yourself safe, if only for Harry's sake."

She regarded him with dissatisfaction before hurriedly excusing herself. There had been members of her own family who claimed to have the gift when she was growing up, and it had always been so annoying to be told of hazy, distant events that might or might not happen. She would much rather have gone through life blissfully and totally unaware of what could befall her. As she climbed the stairs, she found Harry going in the opposite direction with several library books under his arm. He grinned sheepishly at her, and she couldn't help wondering why he looked so guilty.

"Loose end, Harry?" she asked brightly.

"Very. All I seem to have are loose ends these days." He stopped walking, feeling a degree of pleasure at finally finding her alone. "Are you busy?"

"No, not especially," she admitted. "Do you want to come to my rooms for a pumpkin juice, perhaps a bit of Occlumency practice?"

He grimaced at the latter, but was more than pleased to accept the offer of a drink. With a bit of luck, Severus wouldn't stick his nose in for a decent interval. They walked together to her rooms and she broached the subject of Ron very gently.

"Have you heard anything from London?" she asked, carefully keeping her voice light.

"Yes," he replied in a mumble. "Hermione sent me an owl yesterday. Ron's gone a bit quiet, but it's Mrs Weasley she's most worried about."

"Molly's had an awful shock," Maeve acknowledged with a shake of her head. "It's even worse having poor Arthur in hospital."

"I think that's what is really getting to them all. They have to go there every day and just watch him. Hermione says he lies in the bed, all grey-faced and not moving." Harry stopped walking and looked uncomfortable. He clearly wanted to say something, but having been soundly told off by Hermione a few days before for his bluntness with Maeve over Severus' mother, he was reluctant to dive in.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked.

"Well, I just wondered if it was anything like… you know… Snape's mum." He looked at her in confusion. "If she could just let go, then maybe Mr Weasley could do the same. Maybe he's tired of lying there and will just give up."

"Oh, I don't think so," she said. Her face wore a very intense expression. "I think Arthur Weasley has got far too much to hang on for, don't you? I don't think he's about to walk away from his family now. Let's hope the Healers can come up with a solution to the problem. I'm positive Arthur will be patient in the meantime."

"Do you really think they will come up with a cure?" Harry asked doubtfully. His recent experiences had made him believe he shouldn't expect too much from life.

"I don't know," she admitted. "There's nothing certain in life, is there? St Mungo's has the best Healers in their respective fields, so if they can't come up with a cure, I shouldn't imagine anyone can."

Harry began to walk on again, looking tired and ill at ease, and she followed him. If she was having trouble coping with the realisation that this was the start of the real horror, then how on earth was he managing?

"Hermione's asked if I will be going to Bill's funeral," he said, stopping outside her door and waiting for her to push it open.

"And do you want to?"

"It's not a question of wanting to, is it?" he retorted. "Professor Dumbledore won't let me; I'm not allowed to leave Hogwarts."

She made a sympathetic face and closed the door behind them, knowing only too well that enforced confinement was hard to take. Harry gasped at the scene that greeted them, and even Maeve took a step back.

"What happened?" Harry said, his mouth gaping at the mess that covered every conceivable surface in the office.

"Hagrid happened," she said, reaching down to touch the edge of a dark table that stood between them and the rest of the room. "These are all my things from home. Hagrid was sent to get them." She couldn't believe how much had been deposited on the floor. There were tables and chairs, books, clothes, curtains, items of silver, and huge oak chests that she knew would be stuffed with linen and sewing items. As she moved through the disorder, she could see a few items that weren't even hers; there was a gold pen that belonged to Niall, and a painting that she knew belonged to the older O'Malleys, but which had always been her favourite.

"You have a lot of stuff!" Harry exclaimed, as he followed her through to the other room. She had gone on through to the bedroom, and her scream made Harry run after her to find her hugging an oldish man with greying hair, tears of joy rolling down her face and gibberish coming from her mouth. Harry's face clouded. He couldn't believe this — just when he had thought he would be able to have a few hours of her company to himself, he found he was thwarted yet again. He stood clenching and unclenching his fists in frustration as she continued gabbling in a language he didn't understand, and from the sound of it, didn't want to. He guessed it was Irish. It was the old man who finally coughed and pushed her gently away, bringing her to her senses. She turned round to Harry with glistening eyes.

"This is Liam," she said breathlessly. "He was my butler at Abbeylara. I just can't believe it."

Harry nodded sullenly, but she didn't notice his dark mood and turned back to Liam, who stood there thoroughly embarrassed, yet pleased that he was receiving such a warm welcome.

"Liam, this is Harry Potter." She introduced Harry with a proud gleam in her eye. "He may not be my best student, but he's certainly my favourite."

"Pleased to meet you, Harry." Liam inclined his head towards Harry, who immediately felt like he was being very selfish for begrudging her this reunion.

"Pleased to meet you too," he said in a shy voice.

"Liam has known me since I was a child," she said to Harry. "If you want to know what a horrid child I was, Liam is your man. He could tell you all the stories."

It was only then that she noticed Liam was holding a duster. As she looked around the bedroom, she realised it was immaculately tidy and filled with appropriate items from Abbeylara. A cut glass vase filled with flowers and foliage stood on the windowsill, and the large portrait of her mother took pride of place over the fire.

"Oh my goodness," she said, as her mother smiled down on her. Grainne O'Malley then gave Harry a very affectionate look, and he didn't need telling who she was. The eyes said it all. Maeve felt a surge of wild anger across her heart as Grainne's peaceful eyes gazed down. It was far harder to deal with her death now that she knew the truth. She couldn't help wondering if Liam knew the truth. He had been with the family all her life. She would have to ask him at some point, but only when she was ready to deal with it.

"I'm having a tidy up, Miss," Liam said. "It's a bit of a midden at the moment, what with all the things we brought, but sure, I'll have it sorted out soon. Why don't you take Mr Potter away out somewhere while I finish up here? It'll not take me long." He winked at Harry, who smiled back in gratitude.

"Well, if you are sure." She looked again at the old man. "We have a lot of catching up to do, don't we? I want to know everything."

"Aye, well," he said with a bitter look on his face. "I'm not certain you do, Miss, not certain you do at all."

Abbeylara was dressed in a shadow of darkness that had been growing in intensity since Niall O'Malley had returned, brandishing a piece of parchment bearing Maeve's signature. This was the one thing he'd needed before he felt Abbeylara could be used for the purposes he intended. Not only would he gain a degree of power by allowing the house to be used as a gathering place, he would also become something of a confidant to the head of the rising force of Dark magic that threatened to eclipse all else. He had only seen the black-cloaked figure once; it had been the briefest of glimpses, as Voldemort swept through the entrance and up the stairs with a gibbering man and a tall, once splendid-looking woman trailing in his wake. He had felt the potency of their darkness as they made his house their home, and he had the occasional moment of delicious fear when he thought of the path he had taken. This made his earlier escapades with Dark magic pale into insignificance; the dalliances with mysterious figures in dingy inns had been nothing compared to his current situation.

Niall allowed himself to dream. He dreamt of playing host to the legendary Death Eaters of the past and the new heroes of the future. He could see the stunning dark witches that would pander to his every need. He could see the money and the influence he would have, courtesy of Voldemort, and best of all, he would make Voldemort give him that bitch, Maeve. He would see that the daughter went the same way as the mother, only this time he would watch it himself and take a great deal of pleasure from it.

Niall had never been a very clever man. He made endless, ill-advised gambles, and had managed to lose most of the O'Malley fortune. Despite spending years trying to find it, he had never located Grainne's money, and so wresting the house from her daughter had been something of a coup for him. At least he now had an asset to be used if things ever got really out of hand. His last crop of friends had all drifted on as the man's money had dwindled, and so when Malachy Meany had approached him with this current plan, he had been only to happy too comply.

He knew something serious was about to happen when the flock of Death Eaters had gathered on the main lawn on the morning of St Stephen's day. The day before had been spent not opening Christmas presents or eating large dinners, but poring over plans and lots of loud battle practice in the paddock, which was now pockmarked from the effects of many stray spells. There was a low buzz of excitement from the younger men and women; the newest faces were the keenest to get started that morning as they received their instructions. Niall watched as the imperious-looking woman he had seen trailing behind Voldemort assembled them all in front of the steps and began to bark out last-minute instructions and encouragement. She finished her pep talk, sweeping back into the house with a click of shoes on the parquet floor and the vague odour of lilies floating around her. She slipped into the library, and he quietly left his position in the ballroom, crossing the entrance hall so that he was in a position to listen to her ensuing conversation.

"Are they ready, Bella?" The voice made him shiver with excitement. It had a slick quality to it, but always with an undertone of immense control. This was the sort of man Niall would have liked to have been had he not been born a Squib. He had told no one about this yet, and it was a problem he was repeatedly pushing to the back of his mind, but if things carried on the way they were going, he might never be found out.

"They are." Her voice was cold. When she spoke it was like being bathed in a shower of ice, and he could only imagine what it was like to look directly into her hooded eyes.

"And we will succeed." The last word came out in a long hiss that coiled through the air. It wasn't a question; it was a declaration of intent.

"Of course. Our preparations are complete," she said silkily. "Do you have any last minute instructions for me?"

"If the half-blood Lupin is there, I want him alive. I feel he may be of use to us." There was a long, rasping intake of breath. "If we cannot kill the woman, and Meany fails, then he will be the perfect lure."

"Meany will not fail, my Lord." The assurance was immediate, and to Niall perfectly convincing, although apparently it wasn't enough for Lord Voldemort.

"He has failed once already." The chill in the hiss was threatening in its intensity. "If he fails again, my use for him will be over."

"Yes, yes, Master." She was impatient now. Bella was eager to get on with the job she had been asked to do. The sounds of cheers and jeers from outside were getting louder; the troops were becoming restless.

"Go then, and I expect nothing but the very best news."

Niall shrank away from his hiding place and began to climb the stairs, but he couldn't fail to catch the last thing Voldemort said. "And if that traitorous coward is there, you may kill him. You know his weaknesses, so play to them."

"Would he not perhaps make a better lure for the woman?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, probably, however, I want him dead, and as long as we have one piece of bait it will be enough."

Niall had reached the first floor by the time Bellatrix Lestrange left the library, with her broom clutched in a skeletal, long-fingered hand. He listened as the sound of the crowd diminished. From the balcony window, he watched them stream across the sky like a huge group of bats braving the daylight in order to gain a very exceptional prize.

"Mr O'Malley." The voice from the foot of the stairs caught him unawares and he reeled round quickly. The ghastly red eyes burned through him, and it was only with a great effort of will that he managed to retain his composure. "I don't believe we have met."

Niall O'Malley had been waiting for this moment with eager expectancy, so he couldn't understand why he was suddenly filled with a fear that was beyond all comprehension.

"And off the house-elf went," Liam said as he swigged his Butterbeer. "I've never seen a man so angry in all my life. I thought O'Malley was going to have a fit."

Maeve laughed at the memory of the time she had set free their house-elf, Prinny. Her father had threatened to whip her, causing her mother to make one of her rare interventions. She had got off lightly in the end, with just a week of chores and no puddings. Harry smiled at the thought of a rebellious ten-year-old Maeve handing over her t-shirt and giving the gift of freedom. It reminded him vividly of the time he had set Lucius Malfoy's house-elf free. The look of anger on Malfoy's face had been priceless when he realised he had been tricked, and it had been a rare moment of triumph over the worst wizarding family Harry had the displeasure to know.

They had gathered in Maeve's sitting room and she had drinks brought up for them all. Liam proved to be a very entertaining storyteller. Harry couldn't remember laughing this much in a long time. It was true that laughter was the best medicine as he forgot all his worries and troubles for an evening. He allowed the warm atmosphere and the happy company to cheer him up. Candles flickered as the fire blazed warmly in the grate. Snow was falling thickly outside, muffling all sound from beyond the castle walls. Liam had spent a very busy afternoon sorting through all of Maeve's many possessions, working a minor miracle in bringing order to the rooms. For the first time in months, Maeve allowed herself to sink back into the sofa and be truly happy, with only the faintest touch of sadness that there were some people absent who would also have enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere.

It was approaching nine o'clock when Harry yawned widely, standing up with considerable reluctance.

"I should get to bed," he announced. "It's late and I shouldn't be roaming the corridors at this time."

"I'll escort you back, young Mr Potter," Liam said. The old man stood stiffly, suddenly becoming the butler again. He brushed invisible crumbs off his coat and quickly tidied away the glasses, before standing by the door to wait for Harry.

"Thank you, Harry, I've really enjoyed your company tonight," Maeve said as she stood up to give Harry a hug. He hugged her back so that she didn't see the guilty look on his face as he looked over her shoulder. They parted, and she was sad that the evening had broken up so abruptly. She was just about to close the door when she heard footsteps coming down the corridor. Maeve peeped out, expecting to see an Auror float by. Instead, Severus came flapping down on her with a smirk on his face.

"Guests gone?" he asked when he reached her door.

"How did you know I had guests?" she enquired defensively.

"It's my business to know what you are doing," he said. "And I did come by earlier, however, I heard laughter, so I left."

"How like you to avoid a bit of fun," she said, stepping aside to allow him into the room. She heard a rustle in the corridor and knew that this time it was an Auror moving around.

"I thought I would drop by and pick up this book of yours," he said, sitting on her desk chair and smoothing his robes down. He looked around the room with an appraising look in his eye. "Been shopping?"

"No, these are my things from home. Hagrid was sent out to get them by Dumbledore, for some reason known only to him."

"Professor Dumbledore risked Hagrid for a few trinkets?" Severus looked incredulous.

"I know, that's exactly what I thought," she agreed as she crossed to the bookcase to get her grandmother's book containing the formula for Remus' potion. "Hagrid seemed to be of the opinion there would be something in all of this that I need to have. It's all very mysterious."

"Nice clock," he said, his eye caught by the timepiece that now hung where the portrait of the unnamed wizard had once been. The flirtatious painting had been disgusted with his sudden demotion to a corridor on the first floor. He had given Maeve a very wounded look as he was moved from the room, but she was glad to see the back of him. His eyes had followed her everywhere in a very lascivious fashion.

"It was my mother's," she said absently, her fingers running along the spines of the books in a searching manner.

"What's that wood? It looks black."

"Bog oak… now that is really funny," she said, straightening up.

"Bog oak is funny?" Severus arched an eyebrow.

"No, I can't find my book." She looked perplexed for a few moments. "Perhaps Liam moved it when he tidied up. I'll have to ask him tomorrow."

"I've had a wasted journey then?" he queried.

"I'm sorry, but it would seem so, Severus. It was there this morning." She frowned and turned away from the books. "You could stay for a drink, just to make the walk up here worth your while."

"Hmm, I suppose there will be no harm in it," he acquiesced, almost reluctantly.

Maeve poured a couple of drinks, her eyes occasionally sliding to the bookcase with a concerned expression in their glowing depths. They settled down for a companionable chat and it was eleven before Severus left, leaving her tired and ready for bed. As she closed the door behind him, the last thing she saw was a shadow at the end of the corridor, a flick of red that disappeared into the darkness.


	17. Practical Pranksters

Chapter Seventeen

The return to school after the Christmas holiday was a subdued affair, even more so than usual. In the short space of time since Azkaban had fallen attacks had increased, small insidious acts of violence designed to spread as much fear as possible. The occasional sighting of the Dark Mark, a murder here and there and most worryingly a Muggle murder that had taken place in a small suburb on the outskirts of London. Professor Dumbledore had been of the opinion that this attack was not an intentional attack but a symptom of the youth and exuberance of Voldemort's latest crop of recruits, an accident or a dare.

Ron did not bring any better news back with him from London. His father still lay on a bed in St Mungo's with Ron's white-faced mother visiting every day, leaving with nothing to show for her troubles. The Bill's death of Bill had shaken him and gone was the relatively carefree Ron, in his place was a quieter individual who looked permanently in fear of his life. Hermione had been very attentive to him but even she accepted she had limitations when it came to comforting people. The time spent at Grimmauld Place had been no holiday for her. She felt exhausted by the demands of the house and of Molly, who had turned from a capable, well-organised witch into a quivering mass of misery. None of the Order members had returned to headquarters after the battle at Azkaban so she didn't know the whereabouts of any of their friends.

She was very relieved to return to the rigid structure of school and the certainty of timetables; her prefect badge glinted in the sharp, January morning as she raced from her first Charms lesson to Professor Snape's Potions class.

She had almost made it to the door of the classroom when she caught sight of Harry lurking behind a statue in the corridor. He was holding something in his hands and, despite its thin disguise beneath Harry's striped scarf, she could see it was a book.

"What are you doing?" she hissed as he beckoned her over. "Shouldn't you be in your Divination class?"

"It's only Trelawney, she won't even notice I'm late and anyway it's Metoposcopy today," he replied.

"It's what?" Hermione asked.

"Metoposcopy…apparently it's telling the future by studying the lines of your forehead."

Hermione snorted with derision. "You have no idea, Harry, how glad I am I dropped that ridiculous subject. Lines on your forehead indeed, and what happens if you frown halfway through the reading?" Hermione's distaste for all things divinatory was clear from the look of disdain on her face.

"Yes, well forget about that. I want to show you something," Harry said eagerly.

"Harry, I'll be late for Professor Snape's class and you know what he can be like," ." her Her voice was stern as she glanced down at the green book Harry had pulled out from under the scarf.

"There is a potion in here that could help Remus," he whispered, glancing nervously down the corridor. "I want you to help me make it."

"What sort of a potion?" she asked, her curiosity aroused by the mysterious book that was being waved before her.

"I don't know. Maeve was going to make it but she doesn't want to do it without Snape and there is no way he will agree to it." Harry's eyes gleamed with a fanatical glint.

"Harry," Hermione began, a worrying thought having occurred to her. "Just where did you get that book?"

"I borrowed it," he said evasively and his eyes quickly looked down at the floor.

"Oh, please tell me you didn't steal it?" she asked sharply

"I borrowed it. I'm sure Maeve would have lent it to me anyway if I'd asked." But Harry's voice wasn't filled with conviction.

"Then why didn't you ask her?" she snapped. She had been about to take the book but now it was confirmed as being stolen property she withdrew her hand. "I'm surprised you are still doing things like this Harry, after everything that happened at the end of last year!"

"Look, Hermione," he pleaded, ignoring the reference to the events at the Ministry. " I just want you to look at it. You would want to help Remus, wouldn't you?"

"Are you seriously suggesting that we should make a potion that two other people, who happen to be the best potions makers we know, are refusing to make? Why on earth would we do that?" Hermione couldn't help but look a little scornful as Harry continued to regard her hopefully.

"We could try, . after After all you did a great job with the Polyjuice potion that time."

"Harry, I turned myself into a cat," she said, stepping away from the statue. Hermione winced as she remembered the furry disaster that had occurred when she had mistakenly used a hair from Millicent Bulstrode's cat instead of one of Millicent's own. "I suggest you put that back before it is missed."

"I will, if you promise me you will look at it first," Harry said, trying to negotiate a compromise with her.

Hermione glanced towards the black door that contained her Potions class and she knew if she didn't get in there immediately she would be in serious trouble with Professor Snape. She also knew if she took the book she would be compounding the theft; , opening herself up to a lot of, potentially greater, trouble.

"Oh, all right." ," She she caved in and snatched the book from his hands, quickly stuffing it into her bag where it was lost amongst her other textbooks. "Happy?" she snapped before dashing off towards the door, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Harry heard the Snape's caustic voice of Snape greet her with a barbed comment and he could just picture Hermione's flushed face as she tried to settle down in her place. Potions lessons had been much easier since he had started receiving private tuition from Maeve and he had learnt so much. He wondered that anyone learnt anything at all from Snape with the oppressive atmosphere in his classroom and his constant sniping at his students.

Satisfied that he had at least aroused her interest he left his hiding place. Harry dashed down the corridors towards the North Tower and an hour of watching Ron wrinkle his forehead. Sometimes he wondered just why he had bothered with Divination in his sixth year but he had had one more subject to choose and he hadn't fancied either Arithmancy or Ancient Runes while Muggle Studies would have been a complete waste of time. So Divination it had been simply because he got to have lessons with Firenze who, despite being very hazy sometimes, was very interesting and his lessons were usually worth it just for the lie lie-down.

As he passed Maeve's classroom he heard a wave of laughter as a voice shouted _Riddikulus_ and he guessed the third years had found a Boggart. He had to step aside quickly as one of the suits of armour suddenly staggered forward into his path. It swayed in the air for a moment before the visor snapped open revealing a pair of startled green eyes. There was a surprised wail as the armour finally toppled forward and landed with a crash at Harry's feet. It wobbled on its stomach for a moment and Harry could do nothing but stare in surprise so it was rather fortunate that the door of the Defence Against the dark Arts classroom opened quickly and Maeve stepped out. She had drawn her wand but it was by her side and as soon as she saw the scene in front of her she put it back in her robes, her face twitching with amusement at the sight of the figure on the floor that was still rocking like a dropped tin can.

"What's going on, Harry?" she asked as she bent down to roll it over. "Give me a hand, will you?"

Harry immediately sank to his haunches to help her set the thing upright. "I don't know, Professor, but there's a man inside it," Harry said, his breath coming in gulps as he used quite a bit of effort to get the swaying armour stable. Once they felt confident enough to let go Maeve reached forward and flipped open the visor, which had snapped shut in the fall.

"What on earth are you doing?" she asked as the green eyes peered out at her. She had fully expected to find a seventh year in there attempting to play a prank but the face that stared back at her was much older than that of a pupil, although it did bear the same shame-faced expression of a schoolchild who has been caught being naughty. As the mouth opened to speak she felt a sudden flash of recognition, swirling red and a railway compartment sprang to mind and she looked closer into the visor causing the man to close his mouth quickly.

"Roderick Rampton…" she said tentatively. "It is isn't it?"

"Ermm…" The man looked suddenly flustered, as if being recognized in such a bizarre situation was worse than the situation itself.

"It is!" Maeve insisted. "What are you doing in a suit of armour for wizarding's sake? You could have seriously injured yourself. And more to the point, what are you doing at Hogwarts?" She couldn't help patting at her hair and she gave her lips a quick lick, Harry was bemused at her sudden preening in front of what he considered to be a bit of a buffoon.

"Do I know you, Madam?" The voice was rich and resonant. She knew immediately it was the same man she had met on the train-ride down to London back in August.

"Yes, well we have met." She reached out automatically to shake his hand and then realised he could barely move so her hand fell back against her robes. "I was disguised then so you won't remember me. I'm Maeve O'Malley, Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher here at Hogwarts."

"Yes, yes," he said testily. "I know that much, I just didn't think you knew me." He gave her a defeated look and Harry could see beads of sweat beginning to appear on the man's temples.

"Hot in there is it?" he asked cheerfully. "I know just how you feel, mate, . I had to wear one at the Halloween Ball and it was very uncomfortable. Never again."

Roderick turned stiffly to Harry and grimaced.

"Yes, it is a little warm. I don't suppose either of you could do something about it, only I can't reach my wand," he said with an embarrassed smile.

Maeve pulled out her wand and pointed it in his direction.

"_Vestum Expedire_," she called. With a huge amount of clanking the suit of armour parted company with the unfortunate Roderick and was once more standing quietly by the door to her classroom. Harry was sure he heard it mutter something along the lines of 'thank Merlin for that' and he grinned to himself. Unfortunately this left Roderick Rampton standing in the corridor wearing nothing but a bright scarlet pair of long johns. LOLOL Immediately they heard a great deal of tittering from the classroom entrance were the entire class was busily trying to get a good view of the proceedings.

"Class, please go and sit at your desks," Maeve said with a suppressed smile on her lips. She turned back to Roderick, who looked horrified at his predicament. He dipped his hand into the top of his long johns and pulled out the wand that was tucked away there. He turned away from them and whispered. "_Accio_ _clothes_."

Within seconds slashes of red floated down the corridor and into his arms. Maeve took pity on him, opening the door of classroom twelve, which she knew was unoccupied. With one last forced attempt at a straight face told him he could get dressed in there.

"Harry, do you have a class you should be at?" she asked, as if suddenly aware that Harry should have been somewhere else.

"Um, yes sort of," he mumbled.

"Well, I really think you should be getting there don't you or you'll find yourself in detention."

"It's only Divination," he protested.

She gave him a disapproving look, which served to remind him that though she was his friend she was also his teacher. "All classes are important at this stage in your school career, Harry, so run along…and it would probably be best if you didn't mention this little incident to anyone."

He caught the amusement in her voice and couldn't help bursting into laughter as he hurried off down the corridor with a cheeky wave at her. She watched him until he had turned the corner and then knocked softly on the door of classroom twelve. She stared at the blank door for a few seconds waiting for a response and jumped back when it was flung open. She was faced with a much more recognisable Roderick Rampton. The flamboyant character was back, without a trace of the discomfiture he had displayed just moments earlier. He wore his bright clothes like a talisman against banality and with them he shone with appeal and glamour.

"Sorry about that," he said, grinning at her with a perfect set of dazzling teeth. "Slightly overestimated the manoeuvrability of a suit of armour, . stupid Stupid mistake to make."

"Yes, it was really," she said, keeping one ear on the quiet classroom next door. Generally speaking this particular set of third years were well behaved but she knew a prolonged absence would only encourage mischief. "What were you doing exactly?"

"Keeping an eye on you," he said indignantly. The implication was clear from his tone; this was all her fault.

"Why would you be doing that?" Suspicion crossed her face and understanding quickly followed it. "You are an Auror, aren't you?"

"Might be," he replied coyly.

"Oh for goodness sake, are you or aren't you?" He was the most infuriating man and she could feel her foot begin to tap with irritation.

"Yes, I am," he said finally. "Have been since September, . it's It's a tricky business this stalking people. Have to adopt all kinds of disguises."

"But you were a… a Party Planner?" she looked at him questioningly as if unable to connect that earlier information with the facts she was now being presented with.

"Yes and no," he said. "Where do I know you from?"

"Selene Lupin, Hogwarts Express, last August."

"Ahh, yes," he smiled. "If you don't mind me saying so you look much better now, . you You were a tad dowdy before."

She smiled, . he He had charm aplenty and was plainly used to using it to good effect.

"So you were saying, Party Planner?"

"When I met you I had just finished my Auror training, — bloody hard work it was. The party planning was a nice little earner but it also kept me very involved with certain circles of society. Times have been hard since dear old dad popped his clogs and a man's got to live, so why not use your connections."?"

"Connections?" her head was swimming.

"Lord Frederick St John Rampton, doddery old fool and owner of the famed Rampton Court," he said with aplomb and was very disappointed when she gave a shake of her head accompanied by a vacant look. "Good heavens, woman! Where have you been for the past ten years? It was all over _The Prophet_. Head of top wizarding family gives all his money to a Muggle charity and then sets fire to his house with himself still in it, very macabre."

She blinked slowly at him, not sure if he were being entirely serious until he pulled out his wand and with a swirl had conjured up a copy of _The Daily Prophet _from three years ago. She hadn't seen the story before and scanned the page quickly, taking in all the pertinent details. It was quite horrifying really and she couldn't believe Roderick was being so blasé about it all.

"We weren't close," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "Stupid old fool was about to completely disinherit me anyway so it's not as if I really lost anything. And I've still got the title," he gave a sharp laugh and _The Prophet_ dissolved into the air. "Lord Roderick Rampton, nice touch when it's needed."

"But that's a Muggle title, . you You can't be a Lord."

"Well, that's were my rather clever ancestor came in," he said slyly. "Four hundred years ago one of the Rampton heirs decided he had had enough of being a wizard and tried his hand in the Muggle world. Did rather well out of it although I'm not entirely sure he gave up magic completely, if you know what I mean. He got along rather well with the king and ended up with a nice bit of land and a title. Came back to the wizarding fold eventually though. The king got his head chopped off, some miserable chappie came in and organised a few serious witch-hunts so my ancestor scarpered pretty quickly."

"So you became an Auror after your father died?" She she asked, trying to make better sense of his history.

"Oh no, I'd already applied to become an Auror when Dad did what he did. People said that was the reason why but I always thought there was something more to it. He never really cared about me while he was alive so what did it matter what I decided to do with my life. I think I spent a few months of my whole teenage existence at Rampton Court so it's not like I really cared about the place."

Maeve was unsure about this strange young man, . he He was a mixture of disarming honesty and mystifying complexity. She narrowed her eyes at him, about to continue her questioning when there was a knock on the door and he looked towards her with a beseeching expression on his face. "Be very grateful if you kept that little accident with the armour quiet… not sure it's the kind of things we Aurors should be getting up to."

"Couldn't agree more," she said with a conspiratorial smile as she moved swiftly to answer the knocking that was now becoming more insistent.

The solemn face of Percy Weasley was standing there with his hand poised in mid air, ready to let loose another barrage but he let it drop when he saw her face.

"Professor O'Malley," he said in a lofty voice. "I don't know if you are aware of it but your class are currently blowing Flaming Fireflies out of the window in an attempt to hit Mr Filch, who is trying to find his cat."

"Thank you, Mr Weasley," she said gratefully and with a roll of her eyes at Roderick stepped from the room. She felt Percy's eyes watching her as she placed her hand on the doorknob. He looked so aloof that it was only his flare of red hair that reminded her he was a Weasley.

"Any news of your father, Mr Weasley?" she asked and he flinched as if he had been struck.

"No," he said curtly and made to walk away.

"Percy," ." he He was about to correct her use of his first name but she carried on with what she was going to say. "I don't know the nature of the disagreement with your family but I strongly advise you to get in touch with your mother. She has lost one son forever so I suggest you don't make this current situation permanent, for both your sakes."

He looked at her as if she were an inmate of the Serious Maladies of the Mind ward at St Mungo's.

"Thank you for that unlooked for advice, Professor, but I think I am capable of making my own decisions regarding my family," he said contemptuously.

"I am sure you are, but so far it strikes me you have only made very bad ones."

The barb hit home and Percy's ears turned a very bright shade of pink. He glanced quickly at Roderick, who was now standing in the doorway with a frown on his face.

"So you're Percy Weasley," Roderick said slowly. He ran a large hand through his long, dark hair and gave a small smile. "That explains a lot."

Maeve glanced from one man to the other and registered that fact that Percy seemed to be getting more flustered by the second at this two-pronged attack. He flicked one last malevolent glance at Maeve before turning sharply on his heel, disappearing hurriedly down the corridor.

"You know him?" she asked, her hand still on the doorknob of her classroom, which was becoming warm under the pressure of her grasp.

"I know of him and… " What he was about to say was lost beneath the sudden yelp from Maeve as she let go of the doorknob, clutching her hand in pain.

"Bloody hell," she cursed as she pointed her wand at the offending object. "_Frigidus!"_

Roderick barged past her and he flung open the door using the now cold knob. Every single student was sitting at their desk with innocent looks on their faces yet none of them could meet the eyes of either Roderick or their teacher. LOLOLOL The tall man strode between the desks with his hands firmly planted on his hips giving each student a long, hard look and not saying a word. They all shifted uncomfortably in their seats and an occasional comment was passed between some of the bolder children. Maeve sat on the edge of her desk blowing on her throbbing hand and enjoyed the discomfort of her class. It was one thing tormenting Mr Filch, who in her opinion deserved everything he got, but it was quite another to target her.

Roderick finally worked his way back to the head of the class and coughed quietly.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked in an ominous voice.

The class shook its collective head.

"I have been sent by the Ministry at the request of Professor Dumbledore to ensure the protection of certain people within this school." He paused to allow them to take this information in. "I am an Auror and my work is very serious. I have no time for pranks and silly jokes, especially ones that cause harm to others."

Maeve couldn't help but think of his recent argument with the suit of armour and smirked as she thought of the marked difference between his recent actions and his current words.

"I very much hope something like this does not happen again because if it does the culprits will be facing serious consequences indeed, ! understood!"?"

Perhaps it was his commanding voice or his striking looks that impressed the class but whatever it was they all nodded their assent, some of them even muttered an almost inaudible sorry.

"Good," Roderick said and as he turned away from the class he gave Maeve a mischievous wink. "That should keep them quiet for a bit."

Maeve wasn't sure she agreed, in her experience it took more than an Auror to keep a class of students quiet but even so the rest of the lesson passed without further incident.

"I hear that you have met one of your protectors." The voice belonged to Professor Dumbledore and stopped her in her tracks as she made her way back to her rooms after the last lesson of the day. The sixth years had been studying sea creatures but it had been rather a dull lesson. The promised Kraken had not turned up, although given the nervous disposition of several members of the class that probably wasn't a bad thing. She smiled at Dumbledore as he caught up with her.

"You mean Mr Rampton?"

"I do indeed," Dumbledore confirmed with a grin. "Colourful, isn't he."?"

"Very, both in appearance and in background," she said, wondering if the headmaster would fill her in a little more regarding the unorthodox Auror.

"Hidden depths I believe is the term," Dumbledore responded. "He's very good, one of the best in his year during his training and despite his rather challenging background I believe he is just the sort of man we need on our side."

"Terrible story, though, his father and the house…"

"Ah yes, his father always was unstable though. The boy has done very well to remain relatively unaffected by it. You should introduce him to Harry, . I am quite sure they would get along and I think it would inspire Harry a little. He is still wishing to become an Auror I take it."

"Oh definitely! His progress so far has been excellent, at least in my classes." Maeve neglected to tell him that Harry and Roderick had already met. She didn't want to destroy his faith in the competence of the newly qualified Auror.

"Good," he said slowly. "That's what I needed to hear." Dumbledore looked preoccupied as he stood there with his hands clasped in front of him.

"Are you all right, Headmaster?" she asked with concern.

"Oh yes, yes. It's just that Harry is somewhat important to me, as you know."

She nodded her understanding. Sometimes she believed the affection that Dumbledore showed towards Harry bordered on the paternal but he was always careful to maintain a discreet distance between himself and the boy, which in many ways was a shame.

"Well, my dear Professor, I really shouldn't keep you any longer. Be careful around the school, . those Those Aurors aren't here without good reason." And with this note of caution he was off down the corridor at an unexpectedly rapid speed.

The castle was settling down around her, students and teachers alike doing schoolwork before making their way to the great hall for dinner. She had almost reached her rooms when she spotted a flash of scarlet in the alcove and she smiled to herself, thankful there were no suits of armour anywhere in the vicinity. Unlocking her door she knew immediately that someone had been in her rooms and it wasn't a welcome visitor. She was tempted to nip back out and call Roderick in but something made her hesitate. The window was open slightly and the curtain flapped in the breeze so she walked over to peer out. Maeve could see nothing apart from a few students congregating on the grass below her window and yet there was something making her uneasy. Turning around she could see a few things had been displaced on her desk. Closer inspection revealed lots of tiny pairs of muddy footprints on her chair and beneath the desk itself. She sighed with relief. So that was it, an animal had found its way in and made a bit of a mess before escaping through the open window. She cleaned up the footprints and was about to sit down when her sharp eyes spotted something else that had fallen between the bookcase and the wastebasket. Reaching down she picked up the tiny object, looking at it in bewilderment. What on earth was a piece of Droobles Best Blowing Gum doing in her room?

She slipped it into her pocket, turning over the discovery in her mind. First a book had gone missing, then there are animal prints by her desk and now there was a sweet that had come from an unidentified source. Clearly, despite the lock on her door, her room was not secure and she would have to place an unbreakable charm on the door whenever she left her room in future. But the other question was who and why, who wanted access to her room and why did they want that book of her grandmother's. Her mind raced as she tried to think of someone who even knew the book existed let alone what it contained. She couldn't think of anyone apart from Snape and Dumbledore, both of whom would not need to steal the book in order to access its contents. And then she remembered the incident in the grounds of the school when she had been telling Snape about the potion. There had been someone or something close by because they had heard a yelp and Snape had seemed to think it was one of the students.

She bit her lip and wondered if she should tell Dumbledore about the missing book. Maeve sat at her desk mulling it over while the sun silently slipped below the trees and evening overtook them. By the time Liam came to find her, having missed her at dinner, she had reached the decision that even if someone did have the book they would find it impossible to make the potion. It would have taken the combined experience of Snape and herself to have produced anything resembling the formula so there was no way a student could do the same.

The missed dinner the previous evening meant Maeve was more than ready for breakfast so she found herself in the hall before anyone else. She was ravenously hungry and immediately tapped her plate, asking for bacon and eggs with toast and orange juice. As she tucked in the hall slowly filled up and Professor Flitwick took the place beside her with a cheery 'good morning.'

"We didn't see you at dinner last night," he said pleasantly.

"I know, I must have had a Mind-Muddle charm on me," she laughed. "I completely forgot to eat."

At the mention of a charm Flitwick's face brightened.

"Now that is a good charm but I find the Flip-Flop charm is a much more effective way of confusing people and those around them," he said wisely.

"The Flip-Flop charm?" she queried, never having heard of it.

"Oh yes, it is a very interesting little charm." He took a swig of his coffee. His face became very expressive and he waved his hands in the air as he spoke. "Developed very recently, it causes the charmed person to change their mind every two minutes so that a decision they make will be almost immediately be overturned in favour of the opposite course of action."

He quickly scanned the hall and his eyes alighted upon Mr Filch, who was bossing around a bunch of first years.

"Observe," he said as he covertly removed his wand from his pocket and sent the charm winging its way across to the unwitting Filch.

"Now, now, " Filch was saying. "I don't want to see any of that food on the floor. D'you hear me. Anyone caught dropping food will be doing a detention in my room… you have been warned." His beady eyes never left the first years who cowered under his withering gaze.

Flitwick and Maeve watched eagerly as Filch continued to stand there with a broom at the ready and a vacant look on his normally animated face. He seemed to suddenly snap to attention and started brandishing the broom at the students in a very agitated manner.

"What are you doing!" he shrieked. "Why is that food on the table? On the floor…it should be on the floor!" he started bashing at their plates, knocking masses of scrambled eggs, tomatoes and toast to the floor where they all gathered in a pool of spilt orange juice. The poor first years struggled to get away from the tables and the madness that was Argus Filch. Maeve glanced nervously at Professor Flitwick, who seemed to be rather enjoying the spectacle. She coughed in his ear and he looked startled before realising that perhaps an agitated caretaker smashing breakfast plates wasn't quite ideal. He quickly cancelled the spell and looked triumphantly at Maeve who was now more concerned with the mess surrounding the Hufflepuff table as several prefects gathered round trying to calm the terrorised first years. Professor McGonagall immediately took charge and cleared up the mess with a snapped "_Scourgify_" and lots of tutting.

"Really, Mr Filch, what were you thinking," ?" she asked the confused caretaker in a disapproving manner. "Please, if you can't control yourself then kindly leave the hall."

"It's rather good, isn't it," ?" Flitwick said in a pleased voice.

"Yes," Maeve replied doubtfully, although she could see it's its potential. Scanning the now calm hall she spotted Harry who was deep in conversation with Hermione. They appeared to be looking at a piece of parchment and discussing its contents animatedly while Ron looked on, his plate still full of food. She assumed it was a particularly tricky piece of homework and turned her attention to Percy Weasley, who had just entered the hall and was speaking in low tones to Professor Dumbledore.

She managed to make out the words 'Fudge' and 'Dark Mark" before Dumbledore silenced Percy with a wave of his hand and got up from the table, leaving his breakfast half eaten.


	18. Sleepers

Harry, Hermione and Ron had been amongst the first to leave the Hall and were already halfway to their Defence Against the Dark Arts class when they heard a familiar voice behind them.

"Well, well, if it isn't the weasel himself."

All three of them stopped, turned around, and saw Draco Malfoy leaning nonchalantly against a stone column. His henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, stood on either side of him, sniggering to themselves.

"Ignore him, Ron," Hermione said, tugging at Ron's robes in an attempt to keep him moving. She had enough to worry about, with Ron's lingering depression over the state of his family, without Draco Malfoy sticking his vindictive oar in.

"What do you want?" Ron asked bleakly.

"Nothing in particular," Draco replied, walking across to them with an arrogant sneer on his face.

"I'm surprised you're even here, Malfoy." Harry stepped in front of Ron and glared at the blond-haired boy, who continued to look down his nose at them. "Isn't there something in the rules about not attending Hogwarts if your father is an evil fugitive from justice?"

"Oh, Potter, is that the best you can do? Do I have to remind you, yet again, that while my father remains successful and, more importantly, alive, yours died a pathetic death? This is getting too boring for words." He gave an indolent laugh. Crabbe and Goyle cackled right on cue and Draco turned his attention back to Ron.

"Do you want to hear how your brother died, Weasley? Because if you do, I can tell you." There was a malevolent smirk on Malfoy's face now as he pushed Harry aside and faced Ron.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione shouted angrily.

"Or what, Mudblood? You're surely not going to hit me again, are you? Because this time you won't take me by surprise," Malfoy drawled with a degree of bravado in his attitude that was sickening.

"For the last time, Malfoy, don't call her a Mudblood." Harry had his wand out now, and Hermione could sense even more trouble brewing.

"He died screaming," Malfoy said cruelly. "They used the Cruciatus curse for a bit, to see what they could get out of him, and then they…"

But whatever else they did to Bill Weasley was lost beneath Ron's fist as it exploded onto Malfoy's nose, sending blood splattering everywhere. Crabbe and Goyle both moved forward to grab at Ron's arms as he raised his fist again, but Harry dragged his friend back before they could get at him. Hermione stood between the two oafish Slytherins and the raging Ron. He had not been this vocal since returning from London, and despite the awful circumstances, Hermione couldn't help feeling glad to hear his usual loud voice again.

Ron was cursing vociferously now, uttering several wild expletives that not only turned the air blue, but would also have undoubtedly resulted in the deduction of many house points from Gryffindor.

"You're a snot-nosed, upper-class prat, Malfoy!" Ron yelled over Hermione's head as he finally ran out of swear words. Malfoy clutched what was left of his nose, listening to the torrent of abuse. "And one day that big, ugly mouth of yours is going to get you into real trouble."

"You'll suffer for this," Malfoy said through his hands, which now had rivulets of blood crisscrossing the skin as he tried to stem the flow. "Your family will suffer for this."

"Is that a threat?" Harry asked coldly, still grappling with the irate Ron.

"It's a bloody promise." Malfoy turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who were both standing there looking lost.

"D'you want the Hospital Wing?" Goyle asked, watching Malfoy's hands turning red with something approaching fascination.

"No!" Malfoy said crossly. "I want these idiots wiped off the face of the earth… and believe me, when my father hears about this, they will be. He no longer has to pretend to agree with all the dithering idiots that run the Ministry, so he'll be free to sort you fools out." With one final sour look at the trio, he turned on his heel and almost ran down the corridor with his useless thugs rumbling along in his wake.

Hermione turned back to Ron. His face was a livid shade of red, and his hands were trembling with anger.

"Are you all right?" she asked quickly as Harry released his hold on Ron's arms.

"Of course I'm all right," Ron said sarcastically. "My big brother is dead and I've just been taunted about it by the biggest idiot in the school. Why wouldn't I be all right?" He rubbed the bruised knuckles of his right hand, wincing at the pain.

"Ron, we know Malfoy is a liar," Hermione began in a very quiet voice. "I'm sure what he said wasn't true. He can't have known about… well, about Bill."

"Why can't he?" Ron snapped back at her. "His bloody father will have some way of contacting him. It would be just like him to brag about…." But Ron couldn't finish the sentence. It was too painful to even think about what might have passed between Malfoy junior and his Death Eater of a father.

"Why don't you miss Maeve's class? Go and have a rest in the common room? There are loads of those sweets left that your mum sent back with you. You haven't even looked at them yet," Harry suggested, but Ron shook his head.

"I don't want to bloody well rest. I want my brother alive!" Ron replied hotly.

"Oh, Ron, we know it's hard." Hermione prepared to set off down her now familiar road of chief comforter, but Ron gave her a hard stare and shrugged off the sympathetic hand she had put on his shoulder.

"How do you know? Have you lost someone close to you?" Ron's temper was reaching boiling point again. "Even you don't know, Harry. You lost your mum and dad when you where little, so it's not like you knew them, is it?"

"Ron!" Hermione said in a scandalized voice as she saw Harry stiffen defensively.

"I didn't know them, Ron, I never got the chance. But I knew Sirius." His tone was lifeless as Ron continued to glare at him. Several students on their way to their lessons passed them, looking curiously at Ron's bloated hand, but no one stopped to say anything, and, fortunately, no teachers passed.

"Yeah, but Sirius wasn't family, was he? Not like a brother."

"This isn't a game of who can feel the most pain," Hermione said, placing a warning hand on Harry's arm. "It doesn't matter who you have lost, or when. You both feel grief, but you feel it in different ways, and you're both a different stages of it."

"I think Ron should say sorry." Harry wouldn't look at his friend, and Ron snorted a refusal, believing he had nothing to say sorry for.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Hermione raised her voice in frustration. "Look at both of you… standing there like a couple of two-year-olds. Haven't either of you grown up at all? Did you learn nothing from the battle at the Ministry? If you are going to fall out again then Malfoy has won, hasn't he? His little mind games have worked because you two were weak enough to let them. You're my best friends, but I don't think I can go through any more of this squabbling."

They both looked at her in surprise as she slung her bag back over her shoulder.

"I'm going to the next lesson, and at lunch I will be working on that parchment, Harry. If both of you see sense, and can behave like civilised human beings, then I will be in the common room after lessons this evening. If not, go and find somewhere else to bicker."

She stalked off, leaving them both looking at each other guardedly. For a few minutes neither of them spoke, until Harry gave Ron a sheepish grin and offered an olive branch.

"I'm sorry," he said as Ron looked at him suspiciously. "Hermione's right, this isn't a competition. I've had a long time to come to terms with the deaths of my parents, and even Sirius's death doesn't seem to hurt quite so much as it did last year. Bill has only just gone and it must be rough."

"Yeah, well, it's not easy," Ron conceded grudgingly. "But it's dad that makes it worse. You should see mum; it's like we've lost her too, because all she does is cry and look at the photo albums. I'm surprised she let Ginny and me come back this term… I'm surprised she let any of us out of the house at all."

"She'll get better. She's tough, is your mum." Harry felt desperately sorry for Molly Weasley; she was always so cheerful and homely. It was as if one last piece of comfort had been snatched from him. Gone were the warmth and security of the Burrow, and in their place was a dreadful void that was slowly filling up with misery.

"I don't know, Harry. I've never seen her this bad before," Ron sighed heavily. "And it doesn't help that that big-headed idiot Percy is still refusing to acknowledge any of us exist. Shame it wasn't him that died instead of Bill."

If Harry was surprised at the last remark, he didn't show it, and with a glance at Ron's still swelling hand, he suggested they go and see Madam Pomfrey. Ron agreed reluctantly, and as they set off for the Hospital Wing, they didn't see the solitary figure of Percy hovering in a half-open doorway with an unreadable look on his face.

While Malfoy staggered back to the Slytherin common room, trailing droplets of deep red blood in his wake, Maeve was making final adjustments to her lesson plans. Hagrid had pulled her to one side just before breakfast and informed her that the Kraken had arrived. It was currently making its large presence felt amongst the residents of the lake. She had decided that it would make for a much more interesting lesson than 'The deflection of malevolent magical vapours – level three' and was just putting on her outdoor robes when the first students began to file into the room.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully and was rewarded with a wide smile from Neville, who had been the first through the door.

"Good morning, Professor O'Malley," he said, as he dropped his bag by his usual seat and sat down. He glanced up at the title on the blackboard and a pleased grin crossed his face. So far, the study of dark poisons and their uses had been his favourite aspect of this class. He excelled in the subject, so he was rather disappointed when Maeve told him that they were to spend the lesson down at the lake with a huge, quivering mass of man-eating sea monster.

"But, Miss," asked Seamus, who had trundled in behind Neville, "when are we ever going to meet a Kraken in real life? It's not like they're lurking in every river or pond, is it?"

"That's very true, Mr Finnigan, but that doesn't mean we can't be prepared for the occasion, no matter how unlikely it may seem. It's taken a lot of hard work to get this particular specimen in our lake, so you can all jolly well make the most of it."

"We won't have to touch it, will we?" Lavender Brown asked, with a look on her face that suggested she would rather touch Stinkwort Slime than the Kraken.

"No, Lavender," Maeve replied patiently. "You will be lucky if you even see it. They are very clever creatures. Unless they think there is a meal in the offing, they are usually reluctant to come to the surface."

"Good," said Parvati as she sat down next to Lavender. "I hate smelly things, especially fishy, smelly things."

Most of the class seemed to be present, but Maeve couldn't help notice the absence of several students, and Harry was one of them. Hermione had taken her place very quietly and was busy writing something down in one of her books; she jumped slightly when Maeve called her name.

"Hermione, do you have any idea where Harry and Ron have disappeared to?" she asked.

"Ermm…." Hermione didn't quite know what she was going to say, but the problem was solved for her when Dean Thomas stood up.

"Ron punched Draco Malfoy in the face on the way to class. I think they may have gone to get his hand patched up," he said casually. Some of the Gryffindors murmured their approval of Ron's actions.

A quick glance at the Slytherin half of the room confirmed what Dean had said, because not only was Draco missing, but so were Crabbe and Goyle. She wondered what the odious child had said to Ron to get such a violent response. Whatever it was, it must have been most unpleasant.

"Right, well, no doubt they will catch up with the lesson when Madam Pomfrey has seen to him. Was Draco in one piece?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Who cares," he replied with a grin.

"I care if he's been badly hurt when he is supposed to be in my class," Maeve said, picking up a large book and facing the rest of the class, but something in her face suggested she didn't care that much. "Right, today we will be off down to the lake to take a look at one of the most hideous and dangerous sea creatures to be found in the waters surrounding our islands. The Kraken is a vast monster that can grow to a mile and a half wide, although no one has ever managed to get one to sit still long enough to measure it accurately."

There were sniggers from the class, and she gave them a conspiratorial smile before continuing.

"You will need your _Unfathomable Fathoms_ book. Please turn to page 173, where you will find detailed information about Krakens along with several excellent pictures."

The room was filled with the sound of books being plonked down on desks and pages rustled noisily. Maeve stood by the window with her book opened to the relevant page, but her attention was drawn to Severus, who was talking to Professor Dumbledore on the lawn outside her room. Severus was concentrating very hard on what Dumbledore was saying, but they broke apart as Hagrid appeared with a bunch of first-years, who were carrying what looked like Squealing Sapsuckers. One of the Sapsuckers managed to slither from the arms of the unfortunate students and ran across to Severus on its stubby, scale-covered legs. The look of horror on Severus' face was priceless as he stepped to one side to avoid the creature, only to find himself confronted with the equally horrifying prospect of Sybil Trelawney and her class, who were outside to study the bark of the trees on the edge of the Forbidden Forest for portents relating to the weather. He shouted something at the first-year, who was now chasing after the slippery creature, before barging past Professor Trelawney with a dismissive wave of his hands. Maeve turned her attention back to her class and was surprised to find the supercilious face of Percy Weasley at the back of the room.

"Can I help you, Mr Weasley?" she asked brusquely.

"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you, as a matter of urgency," he replied. "He has asked me to watch your class for you."

Percy looked like the last thing he wanted to be doing was watching this class. He remembered the last time he had been left with them and the ensuing chaos that had erupted. Nevertheless, he made his way to the front of the classroom through the desks and the unimpressed students.

"Well, we were about to take a trip down to the lake to study the Kraken, but I don't suppose you want to continue with that, do you?" she asked.

"I could do, if that's what is on the curriculum," he said. His body oozed reluctance. Percy glanced nervously at the open book in Maeve's hand to see the picture of the Kraken waving its tentacles at him menacingly.

"No, it's not necessary." She let the squirming man off the hook. "I did have another lesson prepared, and for that they will be able to work from their textbooks." She nodded towards the blackboard, where the information regarding malevolent vapours still hung.

"Very well, Professor, consider it done." He wandered across to Maeve's desk and in a thin, high voice instructed the class to get out the relevant textbook.

"But what about the Kraken?" Seamus enquired.

"Seamus, just do as Mr Weasley asks, please," Maeve said. On her way out she caught the disappointed looks on several students' faces. "I promise you, next lesson we will have a look at the creature," she pledged, as she closed the door behind her.

Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk when she tapped on the door, and he called for her to come in. The room was warm; candles glowed all along the walls, giving a golden light and honeyed smell to the office. The portraits were unusually silent, staring out with folded arms and pursed lips as she sat down opposite the headmaster.

"Maeve, how good of you to come so promptly," he said with a sideways glance at Fawkes. The phoenix looked like he was about to burst into flames. "We have had some news. Some very unwelcome news."

Maeve sat very still as her whole body tensed. She felt so sure that the old wizard was going to tell her Remus was dead that she was mentally preparing herself for the blow. The air shifted around them, carrying specks of dust and memories through the candlelight.

"You are aware of the rather uncertain predicament of Arthur Weasley, and of the mystery surrounding his condition," he said. Professor Dumbledore leaned forward on his desk, disturbing several piles of pored-over parchment as he did so.

"Yes I am," she replied. Either he was going to tell her Remus had suffered the same fate, or Remus would not be part of the conversation at all.

"Well, it rather seems Arthur may have been the guinea pig for something Voldemort has been planning. During the night there were numerous sightings of the Dark Mark in various wizarding communities across the south of England. This was enough to cause many of our best Aurors to be sent to the various locations, but they could see nothing out of the ordinary, and so they returned to their posts with nothing to report." Dumbledore paused long enough to allow Maeve to nod her understanding before continuing. "This morning we have found a great number of people in the same state as Arthur Weasley, and they have been transported to St Mungo's for observation."

Maeve did her best to hide the rising sense of horror within her, studying Dumbledore's face for any signs of her own feelings. He remained outwardly calm as she asked him how many people had been affected, but when he responded, she could hear the disquiet in his voice.

"Thirty-eight members of the wizarding community and two Muggles were involved. The Muggles have been transferred to one of their own hospitals, and the Minister for Magic has been in close contact with her Muggle equivalent to keep them informed of any further developments."

"And we have no idea what has caused this?"

"We believe it may be a poison rather than a curse. Specifically, some sort of mist or vapour. The people affected were all gathered in the same area. There is no evidence at this time that it was anything they either ate or drank. St Mungo's Healers are very good at detecting charms and curses, but they can find no evidence of anything like that on the bodies of the sleeping wizards."

"And what steps are being taken to discover the cause?" she asked. Maeve felt the temptation to sniff the air around them for signs of this supposed vapour, but she resisted. If this was true, and word got out, then there would be panic. It was bad enough that Voldemort's followers could turn up and curse people, but that required a degree of risk on their part. This, on the other hand, required no risk from the perpetrators. It meant they could disable quickly and efficiently.

"We have brought in all our best Herbologists and Potions experts, which is why I am talking to you." He looked doubtful for the first time since she had entered the room. "What I am about to ask you to do requires a degree of risk on your part, a risk that we will do everything to minimise."

"Go on," she said uneasily.

"We would like you to go down to St Mungo's and take a look at the people affected. There may be something so slight that others have not picked up on it. In situations like this, it is best to have as many minds as possible working on it because we all have different experiences. I have asked Severus to do the same thing."

"And what was his response, if you don't mind me asking?" she questioned.

"He agreed to the proposal unreservedly. I do not want you to feel pressured at all, but I also cannot overstate the potential this discovery has for wreaking havoc within our world. I am sure I do not need to elaborate on the consequences of Voldemort possessing such an effective weapon." Dumbledore glanced across at Phineas Nigellus, who had coughed aggressively from his portrait. "Yes, Phineas?" he asked in a mild tone.

"Perhaps you could consider having one or two of the Sleepers brought here, Albus. Then neither Miss O'Malley nor the Snape fellow need go anywhere. It would seem to me to be the safest course of action."

"What did you call them?" Maeve asked suddenly, sitting up in her chair as a memory prickled the back of her mind.

Phineas turned his patrician gaze to Maeve and regarded her carefully before speaking.

"I called them Sleepers because that is what they are doing, sleeping. If they were dancing around on their beds, I would call them dancers, now, wouldn't I?"

She couldn't tell if he was serious or joking, and there was nothing in his face to give her a clue, but she wasn't too concerned because he had already flicked a switch in the back of her mind.

"Phineas," Dumbledore interjected warningly as he gave some consideration to Phineas' idea. He was reluctant to move anyone from St Mungo's when they were suffering an unknown malady, but he had to admit they had good facilities here at the school. If the hospital could spare a Healer or two, it might be possible.

"Let me consider this," Dumbledore said to Maeve. "I will need to speak to the Healers. I will see you before the end of the day. You would be willing to travel to London if required?"

"Yes, of course. I'll do anything that is necessary." She didn't add that it might also give her the chance to see with her own eyes whether Remus was in one piece or not. Standing up, she had one last question for Phineas.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"Like what? This affliction on the inmates of St Mungo's? I have seen many different things in my time and many different ways for one wizard to injure the next. I should be very surprised if this were an entirely new means of inflicting harm. Look to your books and your memory." Phineas nodded sagely before saluting the pair of them and leaving his portrait hurriedly, as if called from somewhere else.

"Oh, and Maeve," Dumbledore said as she reached the door. "One of the victims is Cornelius Fudge. I don't need to tell you how potentially damaging that particular piece of information could be, do I?"

She left Dumbledore alone so he could contact St Mungo's and hurried back to her class. She couldn't hear any noise as she approached her door, and for that she was grateful. They must be behaving themselves for Percy. As she opened the door quietly, she could hear Neville's voice. He was speaking fluently and with some conviction about the origins of Cackleweed Vapour. Watching from the doorway, she realised with amazement that Neville seemed to have taken charge of the class and the rest of them, even the Slytherins, were busily scribbling notes. Percy Weasley was nowhere to be seen as she crept forward to tap Hermione Granger on the shoulder.

"Where's Mr Weasley?" she whispered, nodding a greeting to Harry and Ron, who must have returned while she was gone.

Hermione looked quickly at Ron before turning to Maeve. She cupped her hand around her mouth so Ron couldn't see what she was saying and told Maeve that as soon as Ron had walked in the room, Percy had gone very pale and muttered something about having an important owl to send.

"You mean to tell me he just left the class unattended?" Maeve queried.

"I don't think he's dealing with what happened to Bill. Ron is just a bit of a reminder," Hermione said.

"And why is Neville taking the class?"

"Because we volunteered him," Hermione said proudly. "And he is doing so well. He really knows his plants, good and bad."

Maeve straightened up, stepping back into the shadow of the door. Neville did indeed know his plants. Without doubt he had the strongest grasp of Herbology of any student she had seen in the school. For some reason, this thought reassured her. There were hidden depths to Neville and she was determined to plumb them.

In the Gryffindor common room that same evening, Hermione was very pleased to see Harry, because her time in the library at lunchtime had been very productive. She had spent her time poring over various potion books, and it seemed the formula in the book Harry had 'borrowed' was a very simple and ingenious recipe. The trick was to get the mixing just right, but all the ingredients were readily available. She informed him of this over their Charms homework, and he immediately grew very excited.

"When can we do it?" he asked immediately, his Charms work instantly forgotten.

"Do what?" Ron asked as he walked past them to the chessboard. His right hand was wrapped in a bandage, but his left one was filled with a bag overflowing with sweets. Hermione was pleased to see his appetite had returned. It appeared that thumping Draco Malfoy had had a cathartic effect on her friend.

"Nothing much," Harry answered in an off-handed fashion.

"Suit yourself," Ron replied. He wasn't really interested in anything but the rapid consumption of chocolate frogs and finding someone to play chess with.

"Well, that's the tricky bit," Hermione said in a low voice. "It has to be made and consumed within twelve hours, and we have no idea when we will see Remus again." Harry looked crestfallen, but Hermione continued enthusiastically. "If I can get the ingredients together and keep them to hand, then there is no reason why I can't make it up the next time we see him."

"How are we going to get him to take it?" Harry asked. "It's not likely he will do it if he thinks it's something we knocked up in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, is he?"

Hermione looked offended at Harry's low opinion of her potion, but had already considered the possibility of Remus baulking at the untried concoction.

"We can always say it's a new type of tea. You know what he's like for drinking tea," she suggested, and Harry, for want of a better idea, agreed with her.

Hermione was usually a stickler for rules. In asking her to make this potion, Harry had appealed to the side of her he knew was most likely to give in to the idea, her quest for knowledge and the need to be able to do every spell, charm or potion put before her. This need was blinding her to the possible outcomes of this crusade, and now that she had become involved, she was just as committed as Harry to producing the potion.

"How are you going to return the book to her room?" she asked as Harry picked up his quill to start his homework again.

"Ah, that's all under control," he said with a mysterious grin. "I have a secret weapon."

"What is it?" she asked, intrigued.

"Watch this," he said. "Nev! Have you got a minute?"

"What is it, Harry?" Neville said, trundling over with a good-natured grin on his face. He tripped over the edge of the rug by the fire and stumbled into Ron's chessboard sending several pieces screaming towards the fire. It was only Ron's quick thinking that rescued a very frightened looking white queen, along with a livid black knight whose horse reared and flared its nostrils in a very agitated manner.

"Watch it, Neville!" he said as he rearranged all the pieces before resuming his game with Nearly Headless Nick, who couldn't really play and didn't understand the rules, but was better than nothing.

"Sorry," Neville said as he flopped down on the chair next to Harry's.

"Have you done your Charms homework?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, did it ages ago," Neville replied and then suddenly looked doubtful. "You don't want to copy it, do you?"

Hermione almost choked on her hot chocolate at the thought of them copying from Neville, whose Charms work left a lot to be desired.

"No, that's okay, but thanks anyway. I found a book in the library earlier that I know belongs to Professor O'Malley, and I think it's quite important, but I don't have the time to take it to her office. Would you mind taking it for me?" Harry displayed his most winning smile before pulling out Maeve's book from his bag.

"Sure, Harry, no problem," said Neville as he took the book from Harry. "Do you want me to tell her it was you who found it?"

Harry paused for a moment, considering the question, before telling Neville to take the credit.

"I'm sure she'll be really pleased to have it back, so there may be a few House Points in for you. Just say you found it." Harry grinned again, and Hermione frowned at his deviousness. As Neville loped from the room, she found herself telling him off yet again.

"Really, Harry, poor Neville could get into trouble," she scolded.

"Who is going to believe that Neville would steal a book? Honestly, I thought you had more sense."

Harry had to duck quite rapidly as Hermione's Charms textbook flew across the table at him and landed right in the middle of Ron's chessboard.

"BLOODY HELL!" roared Ron as the pieces scattered across the floor.

Neville hummed to himself as he trotted along to Maeve's office. He liked visiting her rooms. She usually had lots of interesting plants lying around for use in her Potions experiments, and he always found something new in there. She was the best teacher, apart from Professor Sprout, that he had ever had at Hogwarts, and he felt he was much more able to relax in her presence than anyone else's

Knocking on her door, he thought he could hear voices inside the room and was about to slink away when the door was wrenched open. The terrifying figure of Professor Snape stood there, blocking out the light.

"What is it, Longbottom?" he snapped, and Neville quaked a little in his shoes.

"I've… I've… erm… I've…." Neville found he couldn't get the words out.

"You've what?" he roared impatiently at the poor boy.

"Severus, please." Maeve opened the door further and smiled down at Neville. "What can I do for you?"

"Erm…"

Neville still couldn't get the words out as he felt Severus' chilly breath swirling round him, and he looked like he was about to bolt.

"Severus, could you come back later – or, better still, I'll pop down to your office after dinner." She smiled at the Potions master. Neville stared in amazement at the fact that anyone could smile at that monster. Snape gave a lethargic sigh, allowing his eyes to travel up and down Neville with a curl of distaste in the corner of his mouth.

"Well, if you prefer the company of an inept sixth-year to me, that's your choice, but I hardly think the conversation will be that stimulating," he said as he stepped past Neville with a disagreeable look.

"Come in, Neville," she said. "And ignore him."

Neville entered her office and immediately felt happier. He could see a strange new plant in her window that he thought he recognised as a Finklefletched Scarab Catcher. Maeve automatically opened a Butterbeer and handed it to Neville, who accepted gratefully. As Maeve looked down, she saw her book in his other hand.

"Where did you get that?" she asked, reaching down to take it from him.

"Library," he said as he swigged at his glass. "I found it earlier. Harry saw it and said he thought it was yours, so I brought it along to see if it was."

"Yes, it is mine; it went missing from my room. I wonder what it was doing in the library?" she mused, running her fingers across the binding.

"Is that what I think it is?" Neville asked, going over to the plant he had spotted and poking at it with a pencil. Within seconds the plant had clamped hungry-looking leaves around the tip of the pencil, yanking it from Neville's hand. His mouth dropped open in surprise as the plant appeared to try and smoke the pencil, before throwing it across the room in disgust.

"Yes it is," she grimaced. "I bought it from a man in Diagon Alley, who said he had picked it up in Egypt. It's supposed to eat beetles, but I think this one has been smoking a Hookah in the tents of the Bedouin because it gets very emotional if it doesn't get a quick puff of some Gripeweed."

Neville looked at the plant again, and he could have sworn it was crying; its leaves were shuddering up and down, while its stalk was rocking from side to side.

"Isn't smoking another plant a bit like cannibalism?" he asked as he turned away from the plant and its weeping effect.

"Hmm… if it is, that fellow doesn't seem too bothered," she said absently, flicking through the book to try and discern if anyone had marked its pages. Neville walked across to the desk and suddenly froze, his eyes fixed on the shallow pin tray that sat next to a pile of books.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Neville's face had gone very pale, and she thought he was about to drop his drink. He seemed to recover, giving a shake of his head, but his gaze was still fixed on the table. She tried to see what it was that could have shaken him, but there was nothing there that was unusual, just her books, quills, parchments and her tray that she used for fiddly bits and pieces that would get lost otherwise.

"Nothing's wrong," he said slowly, but he suddenly didn't want to be in the room anymore. The piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum had reminded him of his mum, who lived on the Closed Ward at St Mungo's.

"Yes there is, Neville, what is it?"

"No, really," he insisted as he placed his glass carefully on the table. "It's fine, it's just… well, it's just my mum is sick. She doesn't really recognise me, but whenever I visit, she always gives me the wrappers from Drooble's Gum. Seeing that piece on your desk just reminded me of her. It's not that popular, so you don't see it very often. I've got loads of wrappers. Gran keeps telling me to throw them away, but I don't want to. They're all she has ever given me and they're, well, they're just special, but Gran doesn't understand."

He ground to a halt, looking at Maeve warily, as if expecting her to say exactly the same as his gran, but she didn't. She came and patted him gently on the shoulder, her touch a gesture of reassurance.

"I lost my mum when I was younger too, Neville, and it's the little things that mean a lot. You keep those wrappers if they are important to you, and never mind what your gran says. It can be difficult for some people to understand situations when they have no experience of them." She gave him an encouraging smile. Maeve quickly picked up the gum and dropped it into the bin. She had no idea why she had hung on to it anyway; it had been a silly thing to do, as if keeping it would somehow reveal its original owner.

Neville stayed for a little while longer and was pleased as punch when she gave him a cutting from the Beatus Cogitatio plant that grew in her bedroom. He dashed off straightaway to the greenhouses to plant it in some rooting powder, and felt decidedly more cheerful about life.


	19. A Chance Discovery

Chapter Nineteen

A Chance Discovery

It took four days for the arrangements to be made to transfer three of the sleeper cases, as they had become commonly know, to Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had made sure that Cornelius Fudge was amongst them. Madam Pomfrey had carefully created a private room at the end of the Hospital Wing where the patients could lie unobserved by the rest of the ward. Healer Goldspur and Healer Hurtmore had also arrived and whilst Healer Goldspur had been an immediate hit with Madam Pomfrey she had not been so enamoured of Healer Hurtmore. As she said to Maeve, with more than a hint of annoyance, he was wandering around making comments about the way the ward was run and making all manner of allusions to the fact the Hospital Wing was behind the times.

"As if anything at Hogwarts could be behind the times!" she had exclaimed with indignation. "We have the very best equipment. All my remedies are made here, not broomed in from some unknown witch who may or may not know what she is doing."

Maeve had tried to soothe the irate witch but she was beyond any placatory words and could barely tolerate the presence of Healer Hurtmore. She had now taken to leaving the room as soon as he entered it.

Within hours of their arrival both Maeve and Severus had been summoned to Dumbledore's office to meet the new arrivals. They had been pleased to see that, initially, the Healers were prepared to listen to what both Professors had to say. Maeve had been most interested in any similar cases that the Healers might have come across but neither of them could remember any such instance that involved such deep sleep and left no visible marks or irritation on the body of the sufferer.

"It's as if they simply went to bed and didn't wake up," Healer Goldspur said. "We have tried every test we have at our disposal and nothing."

"Have you had your oldest Healers look at them?" Maeve continued, she had heeded Phineas' words well and was now convinced the answer was already there if they only knew where to find it.

"The oldest Healer we have is one hundred and forty five and he doesn't recognise the affliction." Healer Hurtmore spoke for the first time and his tone was patronizing. "I don't believe we will find the solution to this by looking backwards. This is a new malady that Lord Voldemort has launched on our world. We will have to continue to find new ways of testing the sufferers before we find a cure." There was a zealous look about the man she didn't particularly like.

"I think my colleague has a valid point," Snape said coldly. "We both have a long history in research and from experience know that you cannot move forward without at least in part looking back."

"You have your opinion and I have mine," Hurtmore responded. "Let us see which of us is proved right when this is finished."

"Now, Gentlemen. This is not a race to see who can be first to find a cure and prove their theories right. We must work as a team to find the answer, not disagree amongst ourselves." Dumbledore stepped into the midst of the disagreement and poured oil on the troubled waters.

Maeve watched the faces of both Snape and Hurtmore. She knew that's exactly what it was going to become. If she knew Snape at all, and she believed she knew him very well, then he would work his fingers to the bone to find a solution just to prove a point to the healer. But of course that was probably what Dumbledore had anticipated. He was a very clever manipulator of people and would know exactly what to do to get the very best from Snape. She lagged behind the group as they left Professor Dumbledore's office to make their way to the Hospital Wing. The Healers reminded her too much of the events of Christmas Day and she didn't want to spend too long in their presence. Snape was in deep discussion with Goldspur whilst she could tell Dumbledore was busy trying to convince Hurtmore of the quality of the facilities.

As they pushed open the doors and entered the ward Poppy Pomfrey sucked at her teeth in displeasure.

"Professors," she said, by way of a welcome. "Please follow me and I will show you to our latest residents."

"Thank you very much, Poppy," Dumbledore said, seemingly unaware of the undercurrent of discomfort between his nurse and the new arrival.

Craig Luckton, the new Hufflepuff Seeker, propped himself up on the bed where he had been since taking a Bludger to the head and showed a lot of interest in their progress down the ward. He gave a cheery wave to Maeve who suspected that now he had his senses back he was beginning to enjoy the forced period of convalescence

"Who's in that room, Professor?" he asked as she paused to ask him how he was doing.

"Can't tell you that I'm afraid," she replied, helping herself to one of the Bertie Botts Every Flavoured beans that were scattered by his bedside table. "And don't be trying to take a peek or you'll have Madam Pomfrey to answer to"

Craig shuddered and sank back onto his pillow; he'd had enough badgering from the starched Madam Pomfrey to last him until the end of the year.

"No thanks," he said, as he picked up _Quidditch Weekly_ and began to absently study the teams for next week's Quidditch fixtures. But all the same he couldn't help watching inquisitively as everyone in the ward disappeared into the charmed room at the end.

Three figures lay prostrate on the beds that lined the wall of this small but clean room. To anyone who didn't know better they looked like they were having a nice, well earned nap. Healer Goldspur handed Maeve and Severus an identical piece of parchment each. These parchments were crammed with all the intricate details of the tests that had been performed on the three sleepers. Cornelius Fudge, Imelda Snodgrass and Simeon Caldicott all displayed no symptoms other than their deep sleep. Cornelius was the oldest and the most unfit, having spent rather too much of his latter years sitting at a desk, eating too much. Imelda was quite young at only twenty-two and a very well built witch well known for her copious amounts of physical activity. Cornelius was a fairly average wizard of thirty who worked for Flying Fidelity, a very well know wizarding insurance company. Goldspur and Hurtmore answered a few more of their questions before excusing themselves and leaving the Hogwarts Professors alone with the patients.

"I'm not sure," Maeve said as she surveyed the sleeping trio, "just what it is we are looking for."

"Anything," Dumbledore prompted. "The smallest pinprick, the faintest odour, the most infinitesimal oddity. There has to be something, otherwise we can't hope to fight this particular battle."

"There will be something," Severus said confidently. Maeve wished she could have shared his certainty but the more she looked at their subjects the less likely she believed it was that something could be done to help them.

They left with their parchments and the promise that they would start work immediately. Professor Dumbledore had taken away all their extra duties. There would be no more private Potions or Occlumency tuition for Harry. Professor McGonagall would oversee the DA meetings and Snape had been relieved of all monitoring activities. As Maeve sank into her chair at the end of the school day she realised she didn't have the first notion of where to begin with this. She found herself with the terrible feeling that this time she was well out of her depth.

Over the next four weeks they made little progress but providentially there had been no more cases of this sleeping sickness. Dumbledore had been away from the school a great deal as the Goblin question began to hot up. There was talk that accounts held at Gringotts would be frozen and Rita Skeeter, writing in _The Daily Prophet_, had fuelled this with a very irresponsible and grossly exaggerated report of money being misappropriated by the Goblins. People had already begun to withdraw their savings and search for alternative places to store it; most of them just stuffed it under their mattresses, hoping for the best. The last thing the wizarding world needed was the collapse of the banking network so the Ministry was doing all it could to maintain a degree of calm.

Other measures were being taken to restrict general movement within the wizarding world as Apparating licenses were being revoked to try and prevent unnecessary travel. The Floo Network was being watched more closely than ever. There had been some accusations that owls were being intercepted and in some cases the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had to deny allegations of impropriety.

The Dementors had been mercifully absent from the war so far but now there were reports of sightings. They seemed to appear throughout the country and always late at night, spreading unhappiness through small rural communities and frightening young wizarding children in their beds. There were also other less noticeable consequences of the escalation of the war, as Hermione found out one morning when she read her _Daily Prophet_.

"Have you seen this?" she said crossly. They were at breakfast the morning before half term was due to start. Ron dropped a sausage as she flung the newspaper down in front of him.

"What?" he asked, as he struggled to swallow a particularly large mouthful of beans. With one mammoth gulp he got them down and looked at the front page of _The Daily Prophet_. "Bouncing broomsticks cause chaos on Muggle street?"

"No you idiot, that!" Hermione jabbed an angry finger at the story lower down.

"House-Elves plight ignored as casualties of the war increase," Ron read, rolling his eyes at the prospect of another S.P.E.W. inspired lecture. "Tell me more?" he added sarcastically.

"It's not funny, Ron," Hermione protested, grabbing the newspaper from his hands. "Listen… Concern is growing amongst the magical creatures care agencies that the fate of numerous House-Elves is in jeopardy after their owners were cruelly cut down by He - Who - Must – Not – Be – Named and his followers. At least fifteen House-Elves have been found wandering the streets in varying states of confusion after they were left with no masters or mistresses. It is feared the situation could worsen. Florence Dolittle of the 'Society for the Prevention of the Abuse of Magical Mortals' said today that unless the Ministry acted quickly to provide accommodation and re-homing for these poor creatures they were destined for a life of poverty and anti-social behaviour. None of the displaced House-Elves were available for comment. Our reporter on the streets said they were too busy clutching at the legs of passers-by and begging for work and a roof over their heads to stop for an interview."

Hermione looked at Ron with troubled eyes as she folded the newspaper up and put it down. Harry tried to get up from the table without Hermione buttonholing him but he failed miserably.

"And where are you going?" she asked sharply as he attempted to stand up. "We have to concentrate S.P.E.W.'s efforts on helping them. It's the least we can do after all the work they do for us."

"Why can't Dumbledore just offer them work in the kitchens here?" Ron asked with a shrug.

"I think there's a limit to what Professor Dumbledore can do and anyway, there will probably be a lot more by the end of this than Hogwarts can handle," Hermione said, pulling a notebook and quill from her bag.

"How many House-Elves can there be?" Harry asked. "After all, it isn't as if everyone one has them. Ron's family don't have one, I don't have one."

"Well there's Dobby, he'd come and be your House-Elf at the drop of a hat," Ron said, swirling a piece of toast around his plate to mop up the last of the beans. Hermione made a disgusted face at Ron's table manners and licked the end of her quill to indicate she meant business.

"Well, there are more than you think," she told them. "We don't have any exact figures but most reasonably well off families have them."

Harry looked at Ron who was suddenly concentrating very hard on his now empty plate. He hated any discussion of wealth and talking about House-Elves, or the lack of them, just served to remind him how poor the Weasley's were. And with Arthur laid up at St Mungo's things must be looking fairly bleak without his income. Harry just hoped the Ministry were still paying them some sort of sick pay.

"There are more people being killed, latest figures have it at ten a day and Voldemort's going for families so it will definitely increase." She looked from Harry to Ron and wondered why they were frowning quite so hard.

"Do you have to put it so bluntly, Hermione," Harry said with a pointed look at Ron. "We read the _Prophet_ too you know. We know that the casualties are on the increase."

"Sorry," she looked at Ron and gave him an apologetic shrug of her shoulders, which he accepted with good grace. "So will you help me?"

"What do you want us to do?" Harry asked. He could hardly refuse her request after she had offered her help with the potion for Remus. He knew she had everything prepared and was ready to take it to Grimmauld Place with them for the half-term holiday. Professor Dumbledore had reluctantly agreed to allow Harry to spend the holiday there because one or two Aurors were taking a well-deserved break from their work. He felt they would offer Harry adequate protection.

"I'm going to get some leaflets done. I'll try and encourage people to write to the Minister in charge of this. If enough people show an interest they will have to do something. You should also get your S.P.E.W. badges out again and I'm going to contact Miss Dolittle and get her to send some of her badges up here so we can show support for her cause as well."

"Oh great," Said Ron, unhappily. "We'll have SPEW and SPAMM…fanbloodytastic."

Hermione began to scribble something on her parchment, ignoring Ron's histrionics. Harry sensed it was a good time to escape before she had another one of her great ideas. He leapt up from the table and barged straight into Neville sending him flying onto the floor.

"Careful, Harry!" he called, although he was rather pleased to be the one knocked over and not the one doing the knocking for a change. Harry reached down to pull him up and couldn't help noticing the glossy wand that was sticking from the inside pocket of Neville's robes.

"New wand Nev?" he asked as Neville brushed himself off.

"What? Oh yeah. Gran finally accepted that even Mr Ollivander couldn't patch up Dad's old wand so she finally gave in and bought me a new one." He reached into his robes and pulled out the brand new wand, which glinted in the candlelight of the great hall. "It's willow, so it's nice and springy."

"That'll help when you try to break this one!" Ron interrupted with a snort.

"And the core is the stem of a wild betony plant," Neville continued. "I haven't had the chance to use it yet but we've got Charms this afternoon, I'm actually looking forward to it for once."

"Good for you, Neville," Hermione said, having taken a break from her rapid writing. "I can't understand why your gran wanted to get that old wand fixed anyway. Surely she knows they never work properly once they've been broken." Ron winced as he remembered all the problems his old wand had caused in their first years at the school.

"It was my Dad's. I just think she wanted me to have something of his and that was the best thing she could think of." Neville looked sad for a moment but it soon passed. "See you later, I have to pop into the greenhouses before Potions."

"I'll walk with you," Harry offered. "I have to collect something as well."

"Be very careful you're not late for old greasy git's lesson," Ron said darkly.

"Don't remind me," Harry grumbled. It would be true to say that Harry's resumed lessons with Snape were not going well. It was a battle of wills now between the two of them as to who could get the snidest comments into a conversation. Harry seemed to have lost any trace of his fear of Snape and the satisfaction he got from answering him back was worth the detentions that he frequently served for the Potions master.

"You alright then, Hermione?" Ron asked, making no attempt to move from his place even though he had finished his breakfast. She raised her head again and looked at him thoughtfully.

"Erm… yes," she said with a half smile. "Are you?"

"Yes, fine thanks," he blushed a little and Hermione looked at him in bemusement as he fidgeted in his seat. When Ron didn't say anything else she returned to her writing and forgot he was there until he gave a little cough. She looked up again.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked as he went even redder.

"I just wondered…" he began and then stopped to cough again, "if you wanted to maybe… well…when we get to London maybe you would want to…"

"You've gone as red as your hideous hair!" Ron turned away from Hermione to see the leering face of Draco Malfoy walking past the table. "What's the matter, she turned you down… I don't know Weasel, can't even pull a mudblood…what a tragedy you are."

"Do you have a problem, Mr Malfoy." The cool voice of Professor McGonagall prevented either Ron or Hermione from responding. Malfoy gave them one last wicked smile before hurrying out of the hall. Hermione looked at Ron and waited for him to continue but for him the moment seemed to have passed. He muttered a 'never mind' before grabbing his stuff and heading off for Potions.

Abbeylara was quiet beneath a leaden sky and from a distance it appeared unoccupied. Only a single candle flickered in one of the first floor windows. The once well-tended gardens were now blighted by spell-damage. Trees lay where they had fallen, their trunks split in two by all manner of dark curses. The halls and corridors were almost silent, only the dripping of a leaking tap in one of the bedrooms broke the stillness. The Death-Eaters that remained there were sleeping in their attic rooms, well away from the rather grander accommodation that their masters had chosen. The candlelit room was occupied by two people who sat close to a blazing fire holding an intense conversation, their voices barely rising above a whisper.

"They are allowing the boy to move tomorrow," the woman said, her face distorted by the flickering flames.

"Meany has his uses, "Voldemort replied. "But I think for the time being we will leave Potter." His fingers dug into the arm of the chair as he thought briefly of the boy who had defeated him on so many occasions.

"We still haven't managed to isolate the woman," Bella sounded disappointed. She knew that Voldemort had promised Maeve O'Malley to Niall but it still didn't stop her dreaming of the day she would finally get to torture her. It was nothing personal, Bella just enjoyed using the Cruciatus Curse on anyone that got in her way.

"All in good time, Bella, all in good time." He shifted in his seat to poke viciously at the fire, creating fiercer flames. "Do we have a new batch of the poison ready for use yet?"

"Almost, our contacts have reported some difficulty with this second consignment. Several of the workers were killed picking it but it is nearly ready for use. There will be a larger amount this time so we can kill far more effectively."

"And have our people made any advances in making it effective against Muggles. The two we tested it on survived. That's not good enough for our purposes," Voldemort hissed. His disappointment on hearing that the effected Muggles had mysteriously woken up without even the vaguest snippet of a memory had been profound. It wasn't enough that it could kill wizards; it had to wreak enough harm on the Muggle world to ensure his complete domination of everything and everybody.

"Not yet, Master, unfortunately they seem to react in a different way to our own kind and it's making progress difficult. We may need to procure more Muggles in order to proceed." Bella's eyes glowed at the prospect of bringing in a few more of the squealing Muggles; she took a great deal of delicious pleasure from seeing people suffer.

"Whatever is necessary, but be wary when venturing into their world. We don't want to make ourselves too obvious too soon. We must be ready. I don't want any mistakes or carelessness spoiling this particular venture," he warned, his snake-like face hidden beneath the folds of his black hood.

"Of course, Master." Bella licked her dry lips in anticipation as she allowed herself to relax for a moment. She found being in the presence of the Dark Lord both a thrilling and a nerve-wracking experience. You never knew which direction he would take. He could be silkily persuasive one minute and harshly critical the next, a combination that never failed to excite Bella; but then Bellatrix Lestrange had never been a woman of ordinary tastes.

"I do think it is time we acquired the half-blood Lupin," Voldemort breathed, his voice slithering around Bella with a deepening caress. "It will do no harm to prepare the ground for when we wish to reel in the woman."

"Lupin has been very difficult to bring down. He seems to have some sort of charm around him that returns spells to their casters, leaving him unharmed." Bella disclosed this piece of information guardedly. The Dark Lord did not like failure and this so far had been one of their more prominent failings. It should not have been this hard to bring in a werewolf.

"Find a way and find it soon. Once we are producing enough of the vapour I will want to move quickly against Potter and she must go first. I cannot risk her being alive when I finally engage with the boy."

"You don't think her father will…" Bella didn't get to finish her question as Voldemort slipped his hood back and sliced through her with his horrifying red eyes.

"Her father is powerless. He can only look on and observe his child being ground into the dust. The darkness will at last pierce the side of light with an exceedingly painful thorn," he laughed and Bella joined him with a high screeching cackle that resounded around the house. It woke one or two of the Death-Eaters, who smiled as they tried to imagine what future dark deeds their master was planning.

The glass bottle flew across the office, shattering into infinitesimal pieces against the wall. Green liquid, once free from its captivity, flowed down the pale stone and into a sticky pool on the floor. The Salamander that had been slumbering in the fire snapped open its bright green eyes, surveying the mess with only mild interest. As long as the liquid stayed away from the fire and didn't disturb its habitat the creature wasn't too worried. It slowly closed its eyes again and continued to lie there, glowing a vivid blue in the intense orange flames.

Maeve made no move to clear up the mess as it started to give off a faintly bitter smell. Instead she closed the large book she had been working from and thrust it back between its companions on the shelf. She was beyond feeling frustration now as her failure to make any sort of progress with identifying the problem of the sleepers became more pronounced by the day. She had even resorted to taking a sample of their blood, which Madam Pomfrey had though barbaric. Maeve was getting desperate and she knew that Muggles used this method a lot with great success. Snape had displayed a professional interest in the procedure but wasn't at all convinced that it would produce any results and he had been right. There was nothing unusual about any of the three patient's blood apart from Simeon's, which had been a touch green. Maeve suspected that at some point a Verdant Vulture had bitten him but that bore no relation to the current malady. She thumped her hand against the wall petulantly, immediately regretting it as her knuckles went pink and the pain shot up her arm.

"What is this thing, Bran?" she asked the owl. Bran was perched by the window, watching her every move with his intelligent, yellow eyes. He blinked a few times but could offer her no more than a brush of his wings against her cheek as she stroked his head. "What has Voldemort come up with this time?"

She sighed as she picked up the huge sheaf of parchments that sat on her desk. It was homework from year six that needed to be marked over the holidays. She really should have got it back to them before they all left for their half-term break but she didn't think they would mind too much. They all had other things on their mind. Martin Shuttleworth had been taken from her class just yesterday to be told of the death of his father in an attack by a gang of death-eaters and had returned to her lesson white-faced and crying. She had immediately sent him back to the common room with a classmate to await the arrival of his uncle who was going to transport him back to his home in Scarborough. It had been a sobering end to the week and she was glad the students would have the chance to spend some valuable time with their families. She had been very surprised to hear that Dumbledore was allowing Harry out of the school and had expressed some concern but Dumbledore seemed very sure of his decision so she had had to let it rest. Hermione and Ron would be accompanying him so she supposed it was really the best place for him to be but it didn't stop a little voice at the back of her mind telling her that something bad would come of the excursion.

Leafing through the parchments she glanced at their contents only briefly; Harry's scrawl, Hermione's tight, neat handwriting, Ron's splotches, and Seamus' haphazard grammar. All of them saying the same thing but using different styles to get there. She didn't giving them more than brief passing glances until she came to Neville's and stopped to read his first paragraph.

'There are several species of Carduus (common thistle) that have been adapted for magical misuse. Of these Carduus Dulcis (sweet thistle), Carduus Mucidus (mouldy thistle) and Carduus Amara (bitter thistle) are the only ones worthy of a mention. Carduus Dulcis, when ground down and used as an infusion, normally promotes a feeling of great well-being but with the addition of a sprinkling of Belladonna and an advanced unhappiness charm can make the recipient very melancholy and prone to depression. Carduus Mucidus can be dried and turned into a very fine powder which, when sprinkled on any edible item, will case it to immediately fester, growing a thick skin of dark purple and green mould thus rendering it completely inedible. Both of these can be grown and adapted for magical misuse relatively easily by anyone with just the smallest knowledge of Herbology and a garden big enough. Carduus Amara is not like this. It is an extremely dangerous plant to grow. Just a few grains of pollen are enough to kill a grown wizard instantly. It has long been banned in this country and no instances of its cultivation or use have been recorded since 1125 when an entire community was wiped out. A group of witches who had been cast out of their village for continually putting Silencio charms on anyone that disagreed with them managed to obtain a few seeds from a travelling gypsy. They planted the seeds in a field close to the village and left the area. Carduus Amara does not need much care and given light and plenty of water will grow very rapidly. By summer the plants had grown and flowered. One night the wind changed direction and began to blow quite strongly in the direction of the village, sending waves of pollen into the homes and lungs of the unsuspecting villagers. Thirty-seven witches, wizards and children died that night and since then it is an offence punishable by a life term in Azkaban to grow this plant.'

Maeve paused and looked up at the clock, it was already past eleven. She should be thinking about getting to bed but she always enjoyed reading Neville's essays on plants and their misuse. He had a natural affinity with things that grew and understood their properties better than most. She got up and moved across to the shelf that contained a bottle of Firewhiskey. It was normally reserved for the sole use of Severus but he wasn't here and she felt she needed a drink to relax her mind a little. Pouring a small amount into a glass she returned to her desk, pausing for a moment by the window to pull the curtain back slightly. The sky was deep and murky with clouds that gathered together ominously over Hogwarts. The moon was waxing but it, and the stars, were well cloaked by the cloud cover. The occasional animal noise floated up out of the forest and she could hear splashing down at the lake, which she assumed was the Kraken taking a late night swim. It had taken up permanent residence in the lake having found itself a friend in the Giant Squid that also lived there. No amount of coaxing could get it out and they had had to admit defeat and allow it to continue to live with its new found companion.

She let the curtain fall, returned to her seat and picked up Neville's parchment once more. Sipping from her glass as she began to read again.

'Carduus Amara, once fully grown, can be harvested and with the proper preparation (which is classified information and only accessible to very few wizards) makes a deadly gas known as the Funestus Somnus Vapour. The effects of this vapour are not fully known but it is believed to kill more slowly than the plant when in its natural state.

All three share the same physical characteristics, long silver stems and jagged leaves with a flower of electric blue that is made up of long, sharp petals. They can be sown in late September and will flower from May through until the end of August, although in the case of Carduus Amara the flowers can last until late October and will glow with a bright blue light at night time to alert unwary people to its presence. Unfortunately the inhabitants of the village didn't realise until it was too late just what the glow signified. '

She stopped reading abruptly. What had she just seen? There was something there, something she couldn't grasp as it floated just beyond her mental reach. Her breathing slowed as she tried to concentrate her mind on what it was trying to tell her. Her eyes scanned upwards and carefully re-read the passages, what was it? She took a huge swig of Firewhiskey and there it was! _Funestus Somnus._

She leapt up from her seat and clutching the parchment in one hand dashed from her room, slamming the door closed behind her. Roderick, who had been slumbering in the alcove by her door, woke with a start and was just in time to see her robes disappearing around the corner. Wondering what the cause of her nocturnal visit was he took up the pursuit, following her as she headed for the dungeons. She finally came to a halt outside Snape's rooms and hammered on the door violently. Roderick watched from a safe distance as the door was finally flung open. He could hear the harsh voice of Snape asking her what she was playing at. She disappeared into the office and Roderick prepared to wait again.

"You've been drinking," Snape said accusingly as the smell of the Firewhiskey on her breath hit his nostrils.

"I had one glass," she replied indignantly. "But that's not important. I think I've found the answer to our dilemma."

"Really?" he drawled, his eyes moved to the parchment in her hand and he immediately recognised the handwriting of Neville Longbottom. "In an essay by the clumsiest student in the school? Are you sure?" There was a sarcastic edge to his voice and she gave him a look that would curdle cottage cheese.

"Neville has picked up on something in our Misuse of Magical Vapours class, I don't know how we missed it," she admitted. "Look."

She flung the parchment at him. He was forced to take it and cast unimpressed eyes over the flowing writing. He read it all and she stood watching him, barely able to keep her mouth closed.

"Well?" she asked finally as he stopped reading.

"Well what? It's the ramblings of a sixth year who has his head in a greenhouse all day, the heat must have affected him," he sneered.

"For the love of Merlin!" she cursed as she looked over his shoulder and tapped her finger at the paragraph containing the information about the Carduus Amara.

"Carduus Amara, nasty but effective thing, what about it?"

"Read it," she insisted.

"Carduus Amara," he began in a weary voice, "once fully grown, can be harvested and with the proper preparation (which is classified information and only accessible to very few wizards) makes a deadly gas known as the Funestus Somnus Vapour. The effects of this vapour are not fully known…" he broke off and his eyes slid back up to the same words that had caused Maeve such excitement. "Funestus Somnus," he said quietly.

"Deadly sleep," she announced triumphantly. "That has to be what they are using. I've heard of this before, a long, long time ago. Neville doesn't know the effects, not many people do. It causes the person who has inhaled it to fall into a deep sleep from which they never recover and in many cases they will eventually die. I knew it was there somewhere and we just needed pointing in the right direction."

"It may be a coincidence," he said, tempering her excitement with a note of caution. "This plant is forbidden in this country and for that matter most countries. It won't retain its properties unless used immediately so it wouldn't really be possible to bring it into the country for this particular use."

He stopped and she could see his brain ticking over, there was something stirring in his black eyes and he rubbed his arm subconsciously.

"What are you remembering?" she asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to disturb his train of thought too much.

"It's nothing," he said quickly. But his look of concentration was at odds with his words because inside his head wheels were turning and he was somewhere else. Again he rubbed his arm and she knew he was back with the Death-Eaters and his former master. There was a recollection there that had some bearing on this.

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice more insistent this time. "Severus, you have to tell me."

"It may be nothing. It is nothing," he repeated.

"You've heard of this before haven't you? Was this going on when you were… when you worked for…" she didn't want to finish her sentence because she could see his misery at the course the conversation was taking.

"Yes," he said finally. "I heard vague mention of a plan. A house somewhere, a willing owner and a contact within the Order. It was so vague and I never heard anything more about it. The plan may or may not have been put into motion."

"But if it wasn't then it sounds like it may have been now," she said. "We have to see Dumbledore."

"Yes," he said. "Yes, we have to see Dumbledore."

But before they could make a move the door opened without warning and both looked on in surprise as the headmaster himself stood there with a deep look of sadness on his face. Maeve instinctively moved closer to Severus and they waited for Dumbledore to speak.

"I am glad I have found you both in the same place," he said sternly. "It saves me from having to repeat my news. I am very sorry to have to say that Simeon Caldicott died an hour ago." The words hung in the room for a few moments before crashing down on Maeve's ears. She stared open mouthed at the Professor. The triumph of a few moments ago was lost along with the life of the dead wizard lying on a lonely bed in the Hospital Wing.


	20. Hermione's Deception

The morning that heralded the start of half term, and which brought a flurry of activity from the students, was a bitterly cold one. They were all well-muffled against the elements as they left for the Hogwarts train. The students were too busy to notice the arrival of several dark-cloaked figures with grim expressions on their faces or the atmosphere of tense watchfulness amongst some of the staff. Once the last of them had finally been seen off, and a settled hush had descended over the school, the remaining inhabitants turned their attention to more serious matters. A meeting was taking place in Professor Dumbledore's office. The tone was solemn and the atmosphere sombre as Amelia Bones, the Minister for Magic, began to speak.

"This development has obvious and immediate repercussions. There are thirty-seven people currently Sleeping, plus Arthur Weasley, who, as yet, we haven't included with the rest because his affliction was a singular event. If one has died, then we can only assume the rest will follow. I understand we have a possible identity of the poison used," she said. Her hands settled in her lap and she forced a calm look upon her face. For Amelia, outward appearances were very important. This current crisis caused for absolute control, hence her apparent composure.

"Carduus Amara," Maeve said, speaking before anyone had the chance to step in.

"Oh?" Amelia raised an eyebrow.

"We believe… " She caught Severus' frown and immediately changed to the singular. "_I_ believe it has been caused by Carduus Amara."

"In what way?" The Minister leant forward in a move that was almost imperceptible. Her intelligent eyes appraised the young woman standing before her. She would have been prepared to listen to her even without Professor Dumbledore's effusive praise for his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher still ringing in her ears.

"I believe Voldemort has found a way to cultivate this plant secretly and is turning it into the Funestus Somnus Vapour. It is deadly in both forms," Maeve explained.

"I'm sorry, this is not my area. Perhaps you would care to elaborate?" Amelia had attention only for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, as Maeve carefully explained the exact nature of the poisonous gas. When Maeve had finished, she could tell from Amelia's face that she was convinced. The Minister nodded slowly, and asked the question that Maeve had been dreading.

"And how do we treat and combat this vapour?"

She could feel them all looking at her expectantly, apart from Severus, who already knew the answer.

"We can't," she said simply. "There is no known antidote. No charm or potion can reverse the effects. It is only a very powerful wizard who can throw off the poison, and that has only happened once when Aethelric the Red woke from a two-year sleep back in 783. The only other possibility," she began, before stopping abruptly. Severus looked at her with a degree of concern. They had been up until the very early hours discussing the events of seventeen years ago and the bearing it had on the current situation. On the face of it, the circumstances were entirely different, but the nature of the illness was the same. "The only other possibility is that someone could take out the poison and absorb it into their own body. However, this is a very ancient magic. I know of only a few people who can perform it. It was done for myself many years ago, and the person who performed the spell died as a result. You would still have dead wizards or witches if you chose that route."

"And why did this particular wizard, Simeon, die before any of the others?" Professor Dumbledore queried.

"Simeon Caldicott had been bitten at some point by a Verdant Vulture. The traces of the attack remained in his blood. I would suggest he would have been vulnerable because of that." Maeve's decision to perform the blood tests had been justified, if only to glean that little snippet of information. If previous illness made sufferers vulnerable, then at least they would know who was most at risk.

Amelia pursed her lips together and looked to Dumbledore for help; as always, she would defer to his wisdom.

"We have to find the source and we must destroy it," Dumbledore said. "There is no other course of action we can take."

"If you don't mind a slight interruption," Severus said, with an ingratiating look at the Minister for Magic, whom he still hoped to impress. "Exactly how are we going to find this plant, when the Dark Lord has the whole of the British Isles and beyond to play in?"

"That's a strange choice of word, Professor," Amelia said. "I would not describe Voldemort's activities as playing."

Severus scowled slightly and, as was the usual case when he had been mildly admonished by someone in a senior position, he withdrew from the conversation.

"I'm sure that was merely a figure of speech," Maeve said quickly. "And Professor Snape does have a point. It will be extremely difficult to find this plant without some sort of inside knowledge. Voldemort has many allies, and many places must have been put at his disposal."

"Including your own house, I believe," a cold voice said.

They had forgotten Percy Weasley was present at the meeting; he was sitting quietly in a shadowy corner scribbling notes on a parchment. Although face was impassive, she caught the challenge in his voice. Maeve knew she had not been forgiven for questioning his treatment of his parents and family.

"Yes indeed, Mr Weasley. That does, unfortunately, include my own former home. My ex-guardian has delusions of dark grandeur, it would seem." She managed a weak smile. After deliberating the matter for several weeks, she had finally decided upon guardian as a suitable word to refer to Niall O'Malley. It removed the parental status whilst conveying the nature of his attachment to her, despite his ultimate betrayal.

"That is irrelevant," Amelia said, dismissing Percy with a wave of her hand and a disinterested glare. The pompous man recoiled as if he'd been stung sharply. "We know he has supporters, but if this plant, in its natural state, is as dangerous as you say it is then surely none of them would be prepared to have it on their land."

"That's very true, Amelia," Dumbledore said. "So we must assume he is using some sort of wilderness region, a place not unlike our own location perhaps."

"Have any of you considered how the Dark Lord is managing to harvest pollen from flowers that have not yet grown to maturity?" Severus asked with a cold voice. He was immediately rewarded with an impressed look from Amelia.

"That's an excellent question, Professor," she said with an expectant glance at Maeve. Severus also looked towards Maeve with a wicked glint in his eye.

"He's forcing it," she replied.

"Forcing it?" Amelia was puzzled by the term.

"He's cultivating it in artificial conditions and simulating the summer months. This is what leads me to believe that this is no spur-of-the-moment plan. He would have had to start work on it at least a year ago to be producing the vapour now," she explained.

"Which rather scotches the idea that he is producing it in the wilderness," said a disappointed Dumbledore.

"It does indeed," Amelia agreed sadly.

"Very well. I can see nothing more is to be gained from this. We need to transfer a number of Aurors to take on the task of finding this crop." Dumbledore looked at Amelia, who nodded, before asking Maeve what exactly they would need to look for.

"You might as well try looking for a mermaid in the ocean," she said. "It could be grown anywhere under cover and with the right equipment. Voldemort knows enough to keep it hidden from prying eyes. You would be better served finding people who may have heard something. He must be employing workers to grow the plants; he would never risk his own supporters. Has anyone gone missing recently?"

"You're quite the investigator, Professor O'Malley. We will keep in touch," Amelia said, rising from her seat and offering a hand to be shaken. Maeve took the woman's strong hand in her own warm one and shook it firmly, watching her as she left the room with her secretary and Professor Dumbledore in her wake.

"Yes, quite the expert, aren't we?" Severus said. "You have missed your vocation, I think."

"Oh, put a sock in it," she snapped, hitting him with the parchment, which was still tightly rolled in her hands. She was rather proud of the fact that she had managed to answer the questions without once having to refer to it. "It's out of our hands now anyway, unless they find it, and I'm not holding out much hope of that. Poor Arthur."

Severus' dry cough reminded her that they were not alone. Percy was still occupying his corner of the room, scribbling away with his quill. At the mention of Arthur's name, the quill slipped and ink splattered to the floor, leaving an angry, black pattern.

"Come on," she said, not wanting to be in the same room as such an apparently heartless man. "I'm exhausted, but I want to have a look at the other two Sleepers before I try to grab some sleep."

As they approached the Hospital Wing they saw the dark-cloaked figures that had arrived earlier and that, more than anything else that day, saddened Maeve. They were the Remains-Takers, a profession Maeve had always regarded as necessary, but very disturbing. Moving with an almost silent reverence, they carried out their work with deference and a degree of mournful compassion that ensured any relatives of the dead witch or wizard felt their loved one was being treated well. Even taking this into account, she still didn't want to witness the removal of poor Simeon, a man she had never met in life, but who, in death, she felt strangely responsible for.

"I need some fresh air," she said, changing direction and causing Severus to move sharply to avoid colliding with her.

"Good grief!" he exclaimed. "I wish you would make your mind up. You don't want company, do you?" He asked this knowing full well he would have to accompany her.

"Yes, whether I want_ your_ company or not is open to debate."

"Well, in that case, I will most certainly accompany you," he said, just to be contrary.

The day was still cold, and a few flakes of snow fell with gentle indifference on the lawns that surrounded the school building. Weak, watery sunlight tried to break through the thick clouds, but only a few small rays worked their way past the snow-filled masses to touch the earth ineffectually. Maeve was exhausted, however, her mind was working too fast for her body to find any rest, and the earlier need to sleep was no longer present. Her walk turned into a charge around the lake as she tried to work off her frustration, and Severus began to regret his decision to accompany her, struggling, as he was, to keep up. She finally ran out of steam at the short jetty that hung over the lake. It was little more than a wooden finger jutting out across the water, with broken slats of wood making it a precarious prospect if anyone should choose to step on it. Brushing her wild, loose hair back from her face, she looked like a gorgon, tendrils whipping around in her hands as if they were snakes trying to attack.

"It could be anywhere," she said. "We haven't a hope of finding it."

"On the face of it, no we haven't." Severus scrambled up the twig-strewn incline to join her at the head of the jetty, kicking at the clinging branches with feet that were already caked in mud. He stood quietly by as she began to pick up pebbles and fling them at the water with ferocious abandon, watching as they connected with the surface of the lake to create tiny explosions. "Why are you doing that?"

"What?"

"That…." He gestured to the pebbles. "Isn't it rather pointless?"

She didn't reply, and redoubled her throwing efforts with even larger pebbles until a head appeared in the water and glared at her. Its green hair spread out around its sallow face, and the merman didn't need to speak to convey the displeasure it felt at having its nap disturbed by some mad witch throwing stones at the water.

"Sorry!" she called, and the wind carried her words to the merman, who quickly dived back into the water with a flick of its dirty, grey tail.

"Pointless and irritating, a bit like dear old Neville," Severus joked, although Maeve didn't find his humour very amusing.

"Without Neville I would never have made the connection between the Sleepers and the plant, so leave him well alone. He's far more intelligent than you give him credit for. If you would stop treating them all as if they were imbeciles, you might see it once in a while."

Severus made a noise that could have been assent or it could have been derision. Whatever it was, he had clearly had enough of standing in mud while getting dusted with snow.

"I think it's time we went back inside. I've certainly had enough of this, and I can't leave you here alone," he said.

"There has to be something," she turned to him. "You have to remember something, Severus. You were there last time it happened. You must have heard something."

Her look was accusatory now, and Severus began to bristle under the implication that he was hiding something.

"I told you that I hadn't been privy to the details of the operation. Are you suggesting I am deliberately holding something back?"

"No, of course I'm not, you silly man! I just think that it was a long time ago, and the memory plays tricks. We forget things, small things. There must be something!" The desperation in her voice was evident and Severus barely resisted the temptation to comfort her in some way.

"You know that, even if we do find the source, nothing can help the people already Sleeping. There is no hope for Arthur Weasley," he said. "He isn't as lucky as you were."

"You don't have to remind me," she snapped. Maeve stepped down from the creaking wooden structure and crunched towards Severus through the pebbles. "It's hard enough knowing my grandmother died dredging Voldemort's dark magic out of me, without having a timely reminder of the fact. I suppose the only consolation is that they will have no idea what is happening to them. I know I certainly didn't."

"That's true, but we don't know what you would have experienced had your grandmother failed."

"What happens when we die, eh, Severus? If we could only answer that conclusively, we would be the most celebrated witch and wizard in the world – any world. The ghosts can only take us so far. Even they don't know the full story." She gave him a wry smile before something caught her eye in the trees. She looked around quickly, the shifting leaves of the evergreens throwing weak shadows on the forest floor. There was nothing living in her line of vision so she turned her attention back to her companion. "Fortunately, I never found out, and I hope to keep it that way for the foreseeable future. If I do find out, I'll try my best to find a way to come back and let you know all the details."

"I think I would rather not know," he said, lifting his feet from the shifting ground and moving back towards the path. She followed him slowly; something in the forest kept drawing her attention back, as if an invisible length of string was tugging at her eyes.

"Is something bothering you?" Severus asked when she finally caught up with him; he had not felt the forest's watchfulness in the same way she had.

"The forest troubles me sometimes," she said. "It's just a feeling I get that there is something in there watching me. I'm being fanciful; there must be hundreds of harmless creatures in there."

"As well as the harmful ones," Severus replied shrewdly. He didn't give too much thought to the Forbidden Forest. He was well aware what sort of creatures lived beneath its branches, and only a fool would go in there unguarded. They picked their way back to the school; the Forest shook and shivered behind them as if wishing to cast out the dark individuals that lived there.

The weasel wound itself round the trees, small feet moving soundlessly through the undergrowth, eyes bright with expectation. Could it be that they were heading its way? Would the opportunity present itself for some form of action? Could it… would it be possible… could they be lured? Its lithe body followed as the man and woman moved along the perimeter of the trees; they kept close to the path and didn't waiver. The man, the treacherous, cowardly creature in black, was struggling with the mud and making disgusted faces behind the woman's back. He was only just keeping pace with her as she stomped away from him towards the lake. The weasel knew it had missed something important that morning. All the activity and the men in dark cloaks had meant a death. A shiver ran down the small animal's spine as it envisaged their plan working. Had one of the victims died? He would have to plan a visit to the castle later. How convenient this tiny body was, how simple it was to slip in unnoticed. Of course, there was the caretaker's cat, but it wasn't difficult to avoid her; she was slow and too content to be a real threat to him. Although he had seen another cat recently, and that one was an altogether different prospect, large and orange with penetrating eyes, an opponent he could well live without.

What were they doing now? The woman was standing on the rotting jetty and the man was keeping his distance. Could he draw her in? Would the man follow? The weasel clawed its way up the trunk of a tree and crawled a little way out along a branch. It afforded a good view, although the swaying of the wood beneath its feet was slightly alarming. Its milky eyes gazed down at her as she began throwing something in the lake. Foolish witch! Pebbles were for children, not grown women. He couldn't hear their conversation; one of the disadvantages of this body was its weak hearing capacity, and it found it had to be very close to its quarry to hear what they were saying.

She only stopped throwing the pebbles when a merman popped his head out of the lake and she turned to speak to the coward again. The weasel was trying to work out a way to entice her into the gloom when a particularly strong gust of wind shook the branch, and although it clawed wildly to try and maintain a hold on the swaying tree, it finally dropped lightly to the forest floor. The weasel's first instinct was to withdraw further into the forest. However, as it looked towards them he could see the man was completely unconcerned, and while the woman had turned, she wasn't making any move towards him. It gave up on the idea of any swift glory that could be carried back to the Dark Lord as a glittering prize to ensure its life, instead it chose to follow them back as far as it dared. She knows, it thought. The bitch knows she's being watched and it is unsettling her. If weasels had possessed hands it would have rubbed them together. As it was, it had to make do with a lick of its front paws before biting viciously into the neck of the mouse that had been foolish enough to cross its path.

"You know, Hermione," Ron said as he lugged his trunk up the stairs of Grimmauld Place, "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm getting sick of this bloody house."

"I know what you mean, Ron," Hermione agreed as she followed him, with Harry bringing up the rear. "It's not exactly a proper holiday any more, is it? The novelty has worn off a bit."

"Well, it's better than being stuck at Hogwarts for the week with no company," Harry said, with considerable feeling. "You have no idea how boring it is to be stuck there with no one but Snape and Mrs Norris for company."

"Maeve would have been there," Ron said as he finally reached the top of the stairs and set his trunk down. He looked distinctly red in the face and was puffing heavily.

"And she would have spent all her time either trying to find out what's causing all these Sleepers, or she would have been swaning around with Snape. Either way, she's not great company at the moment," Harry grumbled.

"And she's a teacher. I'm not sure it's healthy to spend so much time with a teacher. It'll mess with your brain if you do enough of it." Ron grimaced at the prospect of spending any of his precious spare time with a teacher.

"I'd have given anything to have one-to-one Potions lessons from her," Hermione chipped in. "She really knows her stuff, if Harry's improvement is anything to go by."

"Yeah, she's all right," Harry pushed open the door to their room and threw his trunk under the bed before flinging himself on top of it. "I wonder who else is here?"

"I heard Tonks clattering around in the kitchen, and from what Mum said, there will be a few Aurors kipping in the attic. Resting apparently, poor sods," Ron informed him.

"Is Remus here, d'you think?" Harry asked casually, and Hermione glanced at him sharply.

"He's arriving Thursday, according to Mum, so that'll be something to look forward to." Ron followed Harry's example and flopped down on his bed as Hermione looked at them both before picking her bag up.

"I'm going to unpack my things. I'll see you at dinner later," she said as she walked towards the door. Harry wanted to talk to her about the potion, but he couldn't with Ron in the room, and as Remus wasn't due to arrive until Thursday, he supposed they had plenty of time.

Dinner was served at six. It was only Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny who sat at the large dining table to tuck in to Molly's well-prepared meal of roast beef with all the usual trimmings.

"You not eating, Mum?" asked Ron, through a mouthful of Yorkshire pudding.

"Ronald! How many times do I have to ask you not to eat with your mouth full? Anyone would think you were still a five-year-old," Molly said with a pinched frown. "I'll eat later. I have other things to worry about now."

They all watched as she absent-mindedly tidied up the last few cooking utensils before wiping her hands on a tea towel and hurrying from the kitchen.

"She looks pale," Harry said. He hadn't seen her since shortly after Christmas and she had become very thin. Her face looked tired and drawn. Her colourful, woollen jumper hung off her thin frame, and the apron she had worn to make dinner had emphasised her newly-narrowed waist.

"She's exhausted," Ginny said as she tucked into her roast. "She is always at the hospital looking after poor Dad. Not that he needs much looking after at the moment."

The others fell silent, turning over Arthur Weasley's fate in their minds. Both Ron and Ginny were clinging onto the fact he was simply sleeping and would wake up soon, none the worse for wear. Hermione wasn't so sure, and neither was Harry. If the Healers at St Mungo's couldn't find a solution, it had to be serious enough to have rather appalling implications. The meal passed in near silence as the atmosphere of Grimmauld Place took over and the murk seeped into their minds.

They didn't do much over the next few days. The only thing of note was the arrival, and almost immediate departure, of Professor Snape with a glass flask filled with liquid. Hermione was in the kitchen when he arrived, clearing away the breakfast things, and she almost dropped the plate she was drying as his black-cloaked figure swept into the room.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he murmured, gripping the flask tightly in his thin fingers. "Just the person."

"What can I do for you, Professor?" she asked, sounding braver than she felt.

"This is Mr Lupin's Wolfsbane potion. He will be arriving tomorrow."

"I know," Hermione interjected.

"Don't interrupt," he said quietly. "I want you to put it somewhere safe until he arrives and make sure he takes it in the morning. Much as it pains me to say this; at the moment, you would appear to be the best qualified person to administer it in this madhouse."

"Erm, thank you," she said in a small voice as he placed the flask on the table and turned to go. "Professor…"

"Yes." He turned and faced her coldly, his brittle glare causing her to shiver involuntarily.

"Is there any news about the people who are Sleeping?" she asked.

"Why would I know anything about that?"

"Well, you and Professor O'Malley have been working on a solution, haven't you? I thought that maybe… well." Her throat dried up and she fell silent.

"Don't think," he said. "It doesn't become you, either in school or out of it. I have no news for you. When something happens, no doubt you will hear about it through the newspapers."

"Right," she said, her nervousness evaporating, to be replaced with irritation. "I'll make sure Remus gets his potion."

Severus glanced at her sharply, perhaps sensing an underlying untruth in her soul, but he said nothing and left the room as quickly as he had entered it. Hermione leaned against the sink and looked at the potion on the table, wondering how they were going to substitute the potion she would make for this one.

Remus arrived the following morning, looking even more tired and stressed than poor Molly did. He went straight to the drawing room, where he sank into the sofa and immediately fell asleep still wearing his robes. Hermione had been up since the early hours making their new potion and was pleased with the results; she had even managed, with a small charm, to make it the same colour as the one in the flask Professor Snape had delivered the previous day. She had no way of knowing if Remus would notice the change in taste, although she had a plan, albeit a weak one, to explain away any difference he might detect. Molly had woken him from his impromptu nap with a plate piled high with buttered toast and a huge pot of tea, which he had accepted gratefully, wolfing down the toast as if he hadn't eaten for a month.

Harry was buzzing round Hermione like a fly in an attempt to find out what her exact plans were, but she swatted him away. She had no intention of involving Harry in the plan. As far as Hermione was concerned, the less people who knew what she was about to do, the less chance it had of going wrong. She waited patiently in the kitchen, her books piled high on the table as she pretended to do homework. Molly returned to the kitchen with Remus' empty plate and tea things, which she washed with a swirl of her wand and a lacklustre charm before informing Hermione she would be at St Mungo's if anyone wanted her. Hermione carefully closed her books and went across to the cupboard containing the flask of Wolfsbane. It stood there, concealing the potion she had made earlier, both bottles now glinting in the light from the kitchen. She took out Severus' first and poured it slowly into a pale yellow cup before setting it on a saucer — using a saucer would make the whole accident easier to accomplish convincingly. She walked up to the drawing room. It took a great deal of self-control to stop her hands from shaking and spilling the liquid too soon. She pushed open the door with her foot and walked in slowly, forcing her mouth into a smile.

"Good morning, Hermione," Remus said, sitting up a little straighter on the sofa, extending his hand to take the cup and saucer from her. She had to be careful now, or what was to happen next would look staged. The rug that stretched out in front of the sofa was a tatty one and Hermione had noticed it curled up slightly; it was this that had given her the idea. She jerked forward as her foot deliberately caught on the rug. She stumbled into Remus as he quickly rose in an attempt to catch the smoking Wolfsbane. With a quick flick of her wrist Hermione sent the cup tumbling forward so that its contents spilled down the front of Remus' robes. It gave off a slight hissing sound as holes began to appear in the dark fabric and she was instantly apologetic.

"Oh, Remus, I am so sorry!"

"No, no, don't worry," he said, dabbing at his wet and dissolving robes with a handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket. "It was that rug; it's an accident waiting to happen."

"Professor Snape brought another lot of Wolfsbane," she said quickly, wondering if the lie would be accepted for a truth. "Let me go and get it. I'll be much more careful this time."

There was nothing in Hermione's honest face to suggest she was doing anything underhanded as Remus agreed thankfully, and she left the room to fetch her own potion. It was only when she was returning that she had her first real qualm about what she was about to do. Harry had been so convincing about this potion, and she had been so wrapped up in her own ability that she hadn't really stopped to ask what would happen if it went wrong. Harry had said Professor O'Malley's grandmother was a very skilled witch and that it was her original formula. The thought that she was working with such a revered witch's potion was enough to throw Hermione from her original train of thought. It had to be all right. Remus himself had said she was the cleverest witch of her age, and coupled with this advanced recipe that must surely mean it would be successful.

She pushed open the door of the drawing room for the second time that morning and walked very, very carefully this time, taking a wide path around the offending rug. Remus had removed what was left of his robes, revealing his tattered shirt and trousers beneath the better quality cloth. They had been placed on the coffee table and Hermione glanced regretfully at them as she handed him the cup. She watched him drink deeply, relieved to see the potion completely disappear into his mouth in several swift gulps.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said, handing the now empty cup back to her with a smile. "That tasted better than it usually does. Perhaps Professor Snape has found a way to sweeten it without disrupting the rest of the potion."

"Yes, perhaps," she agreed, a little too hastily because Remus cast her a quick look.

Now that the deception was done, Hermione wanted to get out of the room as quickly as she could and head to her bedroom to wait for any immediate side effects to show themselves. She grabbed the other cup and ran quickly back down to the kitchen, rinsing both of them before placing them carefully back with the others. She gripped the edge of the table and took a deep breath to try and recover her equilibrium. What had she done? The best she felt she could hope for was that nothing would happen. And the worst — well, she didn't want to think about the worst. All of her earlier confidence had evaporated and she now felt sick. Not only had she given him an untested potion, she had managed to melt his robes as well.

The kitchen door sprang open and Harry dashed in with eager expectancy.

"Well?" he asked.

"He's taken it," she said bleakly.

"Brilliant! Well done, Hermione," he said with a whoop.

"Shush!" she hissed. "I just hope we have done the right thing."

"Of course we've done the right thing. Remus will be free. He'll be able to settle down and be happy."

Hermione couldn't believe how naïve Harry could be sometimes, and she lost no time in telling him.

"What if it doesn't work?" she asked. "What if it poisons him? What if he finds out what we have done?"

"It will work," he replied, oblivious to any other outcome. "Hermione, calm down. Of course it will work."

He gave her a little hug, but she immediately pushed him away and stood facing him with the beginnings of tears pricking her eyes.

"And I managed to ruin his good robes as well!" she growled, before leaving the kitchen with a loud slam of the door.

Harry stared after her with a bewildered look on his face. Why were girls always so difficult to understand? He thought he had better check on his former professor, just to see if there were any obvious side effects of the potion. He made his way quietly up the stairs and poked his head round the creaking door to see Remus lying on the sofa. As Harry crept closer, the first faint prickling of doubt began to spread through him. Remus looked very pale and was slouched in a collapsed position with his arms flung outwards, the left one dangling towards the floor. The remains of his robes lay crumpled on the table and he could see the melted edges of the fabric clearly. He was about to call for Hermione, struggling to keep his rising panic under control, when Remus moved.

"Remus?" Harry said tentatively. The man on the couch groaned and opened his pale eyes.

"Ah, Harry." The older man's voice was hoarse, and he struggled to sit up. "I really need to go to bed."

"Are you feeling all right?" Harry asked as relief flooded through him.

"Yes, just tired. I haven't slept in a few days and I need some rest. Perhaps I should go up to my room, stop cluttering up the drawing room." He gave a fragile smile as he stumbled to his tired feet.

"Can I get you anything?"

"You could bring me up a pot of tea later if you wouldn't mind. I always get very thirsty when I've taken the Wolfsbane."

"Of course," Harry said, looking at the tattered robes rather than his former teacher. Remus followed his gaze and gave a regretful frown.

"Hermione had a small accident with the Wolfsbane. I'll have to send them to Maeve to repair. Perhaps you could take them back with you when you leave on Saturday."

"Yes," Harry mumbled, feeling guiltier by the second. "But can't Mrs Weasley do it?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Harry. They need special magic to fix properly. I'll dig out my old ones in the meantime. On the plus side, it gives me an excuse to visit her when I collect them."

Harry picked up the garment and walked to the door with Remus. He wanted to get to Hermione to tell her there were no immediate problems.

"Perhaps we could go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, I'd enjoy your company very much," Remus said as they hesitated on the stairs.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "If I'm allowed to, then I'd love to come."

They parted company and Harry dashed to tell Hermione the good news, although she wasn't as happy as he thought she might have been.

"It's only the first day, Harry. Potions can take ages to do any damage," she muttered darkly as he stood on the threshold of her room. "I can't believe you talked me into this."

Harry closed the door softly as he made his way back to his own room, still convinced that it had been the right thing to do.

Maeve had been in her room on the same morning that Hermione was busy with her little deception. A pot of coffee sat on her desk and she was hurriedly preparing lessons for the first week after the holidays. As she poured herself a fresh drink, she felt a sudden pain in her fingers that caused her to put the coffee pot down rather abruptly, sending splashes of hot liquid over the parchment she had been working on.

"Damn!" she said as she reached for her wand to mop the mess up with. Her fingers wouldn't work though, and as she held them up, she could see their tips grow transparent and they appeared to melt. She was too horrified to do anything, watching with a grisly fascination as they shrank back to the knuckles, the pain suddenly vanishing as quickly as it had arrived. She blinked slowly and her fingers were back, intact and working perfectly. Flexing them slowly, she touched the hot coffee pot and was relieved to feel the heat flow into her hands.

"Some stray magic," she said to herself by way of an explanation, and with a quick charm she had cleared up the mess and continued with her work. By mid-afternoon the incident with her fingers had been completely forgotten, and she had completely missed the portentous nature of the event.


	21. Remus Removed

"And so you can see the difficulty one would have in successfully removing one's hand from its mouth. Hermione, what is the matter?" Maeve stood at the front of the class with her hand firmly clamped between the teeth of a Snapping Sugar Sprite. Hermione immediately stopped surreptitiously waving her quill at Harry in an attempt to attract his attention, and faced forward.

"Nothing, Professor," she said guiltily.

"You haven't been paying attention since you came back from your holidays. Are you quite sure there is nothing bothering you?"

"She probably went on a date with Weasley," Draco Malfoy said in a snide voice. "That would be enough to make anyone lose their marbles."

"Yes, thank you, Mr Malfoy," Maeve said crossly as Ron went a funny shade of puce and immediately buried his head in his textbook. "When I want a childish, immature remark from you, I will ask for it. Until that unheard of event happens, kindly keep your mouth closed."

Neville Longbottom's hand shot into the air and Maeve turned her relieved attention to him.

"Yes, Neville?"

"Could you tickle it, Miss," he suggested. There were sniggers from the rest of the class, and Neville sagged a little in his seat.

"Now, that's not a bad idea, Neville, and with some creatures it would work, but unfortunately the Snapping Sugar Sprite is a little trickier than that. Does anyone else have any suggestions?"

And now she knew there was something wrong with Hermione, because normally the girl's hand would have been reaching for the ceiling. Instead, she was busy scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

"No-one got any suggestions? Come on, you are supposed to have researched these creatures for your homework. I know we are just back from a break, but even so, a little effort would be nice."

Seamus Finnigan eagerly put his hand in the air.

"Yes, Seamus?" she asked hopefully.

"Can I go to the toilet, Professor?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake! Yes, go on with you."

She began to look slightly uncomfortable as the teeth of the Sprite sank into her hand, but this had become a battle of wills between her and her intractable class. She was going to wring the answer out of them, even if it meant losing the use of her left hand.

"It's a Sugar Sprite," she prompted through gritted teeth. "It likes sugar and anything sweet."

There were blank looks all around, except for Hermione, who had finished scribbling and looked up. She seemed to finally understand a question was being asked, but having missed it, she didn't know how to answer. She couldn't ask for it to be repeated because that would be tantamount to admitting she hadn't been paying attention in the first place.

"It is repelled by anything that would in any way eradicate sugar," Maeve said desperately as the creature began to suck at her skin.

Finally, Hermione cottoned on to what was being asked of the class and her hand shot up with its customary authority.

"Yes, Hermione?" Maeve breathed gratefully.

"You need a toothbrush. They hate them. It's even better if you can get one with toothpaste on it. In a really tight spot, you could always throw a bit of mouthwash at it."

With amazing swiftness, Maeve produced a ready-pasted toothbrush from her desk drawer and waved it threateningly at the Sprite, who immediately let go of her hand with a high-pitched squeal. With the aid of a bag of Honeydukes finest, she managed to entice the creature back into its cage, and with a sigh of relief, slammed the door shut. Hermione had taken advantage of the professor's inattention to slip the parchment to Harry, who was reading it when Maeve turned her attention back to the class.

"Not exactly dangerous is it," Malfoy said.

"If you couldn't produce a toothbrush, and it stayed on your hand, or whatever part of the anatomy it had hold of" – her eyes clearly suggested she knew exactly which part of Malfoy's anatomy she would like the Sprite to clamp onto – "then it would suck out every drop of fluid in your body in its search for sugar. A particularly nasty way to die, unless you happen to enjoy shrivelling up like a prune."

A few of the girls made disgusted sounds as this, but Malfoy looked unconcerned and hadn't given up the opportunity to score points against his teacher.

"Why can't you just blast it with your wand," he sneered.

"It will repel the magic. Sugar Sprites are made up of eighty-five percent sugar, and this high concentration of glucose seems to just shrug off any traditional magic."

"Can we move on to something interesting now?" he asked.

"Yes, you can move on to the rubbish bin if you like." She reached into her robes for her wand. Immediately, Malfoy shuffled uncomfortably in his chair and muttered something under his breath. Seamus chose that moment to re-enter the room, diverting attention from Malfoy with the news that he'd seen someone from the Ministry lurking in the corridors. Maeve told him to sit down and stop spreading rumours, before wrapping up the class.

"Right, that's just about it for today. I want to see all your parchments on my desk before you leave. If today is anything to go by, I shall not expect too much in the way of quality or quantity. I suppose I hardly need remind you that you will be sitting your N.E.W.T.s next year. Perhaps the time has come for you to apply a little concentrated effort to this class."

She watched as they clattered, grumbling, to their feet and made their way to the front with their homework. Some of it was in fairly good condition, but quite a few of the parchments displayed the ill-effects of having spent a week in their homes, at the mercy of younger siblings and animals. She was sure there was tomato ketchup on the back of Dean's, and she didn't even want to guess at what the faint brown stain was on Seamus Finnigan's. As they stampeded from the room, she thought Harry was going to stop back, but he hesitated and followed Ron out of the door with Hermione bringing up the rear.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione whispered in his ear as she caught up with him. Harry shrugged his shoulders at her and gave her a very neutral look as Ron turned around to look at them.

"What are you two whispering about?" he asked.

"We weren't," Hermione said, with a fairly convincing display of righteous indignation. "Honestly, Ron, you can be so funny sometimes."

"You bloody well were, I heard you. Your mouth is bigger than you think," he replied. "You said thank you to Harry,"

"Harry helped me with some homework." Hermione tried to cover up with a quick lie, but Ron could see straight through it.

"What would Harry be doing helping you with homework when for the past five years it has been the other way around," he argued. "Fine, if you two have your little secrets then don't worry about me. I can always find someone else to be friends with." He gave them both a doleful look before stalking off down the corridor in disgust.

"He is so touchy at the moment, and I don't think it's his dad," Hermione said, watching Ron disappear.

"I think Ron is feeling a little protective of you," Harry said. "He's been that way since your friend Viktor appeared on the scene."

"What?" she looked confused. "What's Viktor got to do with anything? We're just friends."

"I know that and you know that, but Ron is blissfully unaware of the fact. You might try paying him a bit more attention once in awhile."

"I do pay him attention. Lots of it." Hermione was looking very confused by now.

"But not the kind of attention I think Ron is looking for," Harry said before hoisting his bag onto his shoulders and walking away from her.

"I meant the thank you, Harry," she said, and he stopped. "If you had given her Remus' robes, she would have found out what we did, and we don't know if it's worked yet."

"I don't think she would. She would just have assumed it was something that happened while he was working for the Order." He played with the straps of his bag in a nervous way; the more they had both thought about it, the more fretful they had become about the whole thing. "Anyway, you were so worked up in there I thought I'd better not give it to her or you would have blown the whole thing out of the water."

"Well, you said you would give it to her straight after the lesson. What else could I do?"

"Let it drop, Hermione. We will wait until after the full moon and then I'll give it to her," Harry said, hoping to bring an end to the conversation.

"You were the one that persuaded me to make the potion, so don't get snappy with me now," she hissed. "Really, the ingratitude of some people."

With a toss of her head, she turned her back on Harry and walked off in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" he shouted. "I thought we were going for some lunch."

"I've changed my mind!" she yelled back, disappearing round a corner. Harry shrugged and wandered off to see if he could cheer Ron up, but without a compliant Hermione he doubted it could be achieved.

Maeve was relieved the class was over. It had been a difficult two days, trying to motivate the students after their week in the real world. It was even worse at the moment with their exposure to the war, which was slowly intensifying as the Death Eaters became more daring. Only yesterday there had been an attack right outside the Ministry, and a worker in the Department of Magical Transportation had been killed in a seemingly random attack by three Death Eaters. She felt rather mollycoddled at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's certainty that the place was impregnable gave her a complacent feeling that could prove dangerous. As she tidied up her desk she heard a soft knock on the door, and as she raised her head, it opened slowly.

"Afternoon!" It was Roderick Rampton, who had recently become a little less invisible.

"Is it?" she asked, looking quickly at her watch. "Yes I suppose it is, just."

"Would you like to grab a bite to eat?" he asked, oozing charm.

"Erm, I really do have a lot to do," she said, trying to look busy. She liked Roderick, in small doses he could be fairly amusing, but she didn't think she could cope with him over her lunch hour.

"Oh, go on," he said persuasively. "It can't hurt, can it?"

His wide smile grew even wider and she could feel herself caving in under the force of such allure.

"Well… " She hesitated and was lost as he flounced into the room and slipped his arm through hers.

"Atta girl!" He grinned as he gently pulled her away from her desk and out of the classroom.

"Aren't you supposed to be seeing and yet unseen?" she asked with a mischievous smile. His arm was firmly linked with hers, and it made her feel both uneasy and delighted – a situation she didn't entirely like.

"Well, yes, I suppose so. But being as we've already met, I think we can gloss over that little technicality, don't you think," he said.

"Why do I get the feeling you have the potential to be serious trouble," she said with a laugh.

"Trouble! Moi!" he exclaimed, feigning a wounded expression.

"Yes, you," she insisted as they approached the Great Hall. The sound of students could be heard chattering away, and cutlery scraped against plates. They entered from the teacher's doorway and quietly sat down at the head table before both asking their plates for sandwiches and orange juice.

"How long will you be here for?" she asked between mouthfuls of bread and ham.

"I don't know. It's a bit of an easy job this; nothing but wandering around and keeping a close eye on you. It's hardly taxing, is it? Especially when you are so easy on the eye." His flattery was almost constant and she blushed under the weight of it.

"Surely they will move you around though? I haven't even seen the other Auror. I was told there were two of you."

"That would be Titus Snow. He does the night shift. Old chap keeps himself to himself, really. He's a good bit older than I am so we don't really have much in common. We just exchange a hello and a goodbye when we swap shifts." He popped a rather large tomato into his mouth. "To be honest, I think he's a bit fed up of being stuck here. He wants to be out there duelling with Death Eaters, I think."

"And you don't?" she asked curiously.

"Well, yes and no. It's a glorious battle and all that rot, but then there is the small matter of losing one's life, which is not my idea of fun."

"But surely that's why you signed up to become an Auror? Fighting the enemy and destroying evil"

"Yes it is, I suppose," he said, but Maeve wasn't convinced by his answer. In fact she got the distinct impression he would have been more than happy if he never had to face a Death Eater in his lifetime.

They finished their lunch and the conversation moved to lighter matters, including his imminent birthday party, to which she was invited. For a moment she contemplated inviting Severus as her guest, but somehow she couldn't see the two of them hitting it off. Although, she thought with a smile, it would have made quite an amusing spectacle. As they stood up to leave, Professor Sprout called Maeve over so Roderick made his excuses and left.

"I've got those samples ready for you," the Herbology Professor said as Maeve sat down next to her. "You can collect them when you are ready."

"That's very kind of you, Professor, I can come and collect them later. No doubt it will keep the second-years occupied for an hour or two." Maeve stood up again. "Come to think of it it might keep my sixth-years occupied too; they are so distracted at the moment."

"It's difficult for them," Professor Sprout said sympathetically. "They don't know what's going to happen next."

"I know," she agreed as she stepped back and pushed the chair in, pausing as her foot stood on something soft. She moved her heel and found what had once been a blue square, but was now a flat mess. She picked it up and immediately frowned; this was the second time she had found a piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and now she was beginning to think it wasn't a coincidence. She had no idea what it meant, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow significant. She pocketed the tiny packet, left the Hall, and headed for the entrance. The afternoon was free from lessons, and now that they had discovered the potential cause of the Sleepers she had little left to do in the way of research, so time was more plentiful. Perhaps a quick ride around the grounds on Saoirse would lift her spirits.

The afternoon sparkled with cold. A fresh fall of snow had covered the grass, and she could see that the lake had frozen. Maeve gave a chuckle to herself as she thought of the Kraken and the Squid, shivering together beneath the frozen surface. Served the bloody thing right for not coming out when it had the chance. Hagrid was nowhere to be seen as she approached the makeshift stable, so she let herself into his hut to get Saoirse's tack. She was in and out as quickly as possible; Hagrid's hut scared even her, with its abundance of nasty surprises that could often be found in the gloom. The horse was happy to see her, and as she flung herself up onto its back, it high stepped out of the shadow of the buildings and into the brightness of the early afternoon. She rode away from the lake and across the fields beyond the school, Saoirse picking her way across the snow covered ground. Both horse and rider emitted huge gasps of white breath as they moved through the air, and Maeve was very glad she had picked up her outdoor cloak as she had left the school. After an hour, she turned for home and a shadow crossed the pale sun. Looking up she could see the swooping scarlet of Roderick as he flew above, keeping his watch. She gave him a jaunty wave as she sent the horse into a slow canter, careful not to go too fast on the loose, snowy ground. The school grounds were very quiet at this time of day; most of the children were still trapped in their lessons, and the teachers who had free time would be safely ensconced in the staff room, drinking tea. She decided that one last quick ride around the edge of the frozen, gunmetal-grey lake would round off her jaunt nicely. As she reached the path that wound alongside the water, she could see a shadow moving on the ice. Saoirse immediately became uneasy as she felt Maeve's body tense. The horse could sense something strange rising from the frozen water. Maeve watched as what appeared to be a brown-cloaked figure flailed about, pointing a wand at nothing but thin air.

"Who is it?" Maeve asked out loud to the air. The figure turned and she recognised the flecked hair and the haggard face, despite the fact he was quite a way out and moving ever further away from her. She felt fear course through her body and she knew whatever was happening was no ordinary magic.

"Remus!" she called, her voice echoing across the frozen expanse. He didn't appear to hear her as he continued fighting against his ghostly opponent and she began to panic. She couldn't fight something she couldn't see and she didn't have time to call for her broom. There was only one thing for it, and she didn't stop to think as she kicked the horse's sides. Saoirse would normally have obeyed any command Maeve gave her, but this didn't make sense. For a non-magical being she was fairly intelligent, and she couldn't fathom why her mistress wanted her to gallop across this thin veneer that covered a deep stretch of water. She dug her hooves into the shingle and her haunches tightened as she fought the impulse to do as she was told.

"I don't have time for this, Saoirse," Maeve yelled at her, kicking her again and with some force. Unused to such rough riding, the horse shot forward onto the ice, her hooves clattering against the fragile surface as they fought to gain a footing. Maeve leaned across the animal's shoulders, and by sheer force of will managed to get her galloping. Chips of ice flew up, glinting in the light, and the temporary surface shuddered beneath them. Remus was getting closer, and now she could see someone else, someone who hadn't been there before. A black-cloaked figure with a woman's slender body floated down on a broomstick with evil intent clear on its hard face. Maeve just had time to register that this was a woman who had suffered and caused suffering in her time before she realised that this was the creature Remus had been fighting. She was almost on them now and she was still calling Remus' name, but he wasn't acknowledging her and she couldn't understand why. And where was Roderick? She glanced up quickly and saw him skimming the surface of the lake towards her, his bright cloak splayed out behind him in the wind.

"What are you doing?" he yelled. "You'll get yourself killed!"

She was so close now that she could see the determination on Remus' face, and then she realised he wasn't wearing his robes, her robes. Realisation hit her as she understood the significance of her vanishing fingers the previous day; the robe and its embroidery were damaged. The powerful magic that had flowed into the stitches from her fingers had been dissolved and so too, for a flickering moment, had the fingers that wrought it. He was desperately vulnerable without that powerful protection and she could feel her lungs filling up for the warning scream when the black witch pulled out her wand. In a bitter, refined voice she called out '_Crucio_' at the same time as she pointed her wand at him. Maeve quickly transferred the reins into one hand and reached for her own wand. As the curse hit Remus, Maeve called out '_Expelliarmus_' and aimed her wand at the other witch. Nothing happened. No magic came from Maeve's wand, and Remus did not react to the Cruciatus Curse. Both witches faltered as they realised that they were without their main weapon, but the stranger was the first to recover and she now flung several binding spells at Remus. He was trying to catch her with hexes of his own, but she was lightning-fast and dodged them expertly, twisting and turning on her broom with incredible skill. Finally, the black witch managed to hit him with two binding spells at once and the ropes that had shot our of the end of her wand, instead of flailing uselessly on the ice, slithered round their intended victim, rendering Remus helpless. Maeve tried again with her wand and still nothing happened, so she did the only thing she could to try and break Remus free from the binding spells; she rode at him.

At the same time, the other woman swooped, and with a surprising amount of strength, lifted the stricken wizard on to her broom before quickly rising into the sky. Just as Maeve reached the spot where they had been duelling, they vanished into nothingness, and the air around her crackled with energy. For a shimmering moment she thought she saw the grey frontage of Abbeylara, but the sight was so unexpected and incongruous that she shook the image from her eyes. She tugged at the reins to bring the horse to a slippery, skidding halt and felt her heart was about to implode with loss and fear. Roderick caught up with her, hovering in astonishment in front of her.

"What happened? What are you doing on the ice?" he asked incredulously.

"Remus has been captured," she said, with panic fluttering in her chest. "Didn't you see the woman? Didn't you see the fight?"

"I didn't see anything because there wasn't anything. What are you talking about?" He looked down at the surface of the lake with alarm. "It doesn't matter. We need to get you off the ice before anything happens. Give me your arm."

She looked at him as if he had gone mad.

"I'll ride to shore, I can't leave Saoirse."

"You can't ride!" he cried. "The ice will break. Give me your hand."

"No!" She gripped the reins tighter, as if holding on would somehow rub out the vision she had just seen. "It was his shade," she said, her eyes fluid with tears. "I've seen something like that before. It's a portent of death."

Roderick was panicking now, and because he couldn't understand her ramblings, he ignored them. He could see a few distant figures appear on the edge of the lake. No one would be able to re-freeze the lake if it went, there was too much water, and he wasn't strong enough to levitate both her and the horse to the side.

"Well if you are going to ride, ride NOW!" he shouted, flying low behind the horse and reaching out a hand to slap its hindquarters. Saoirse couldn't believe the amount of rough handling she had been subjected to and she kicked out her back leg in protest. They all heard the sudden, ominous crack as the ice shifted beneath her. This galvanised Maeve into action. She turned the animal's head for the shore and they were off, slipping again on the glassy surface. Blinded by tears and the stinging cold, Maeve had no idea how rapidly the ice was giving way, and she could do nothing more than hold on as her horse fought to make it to the safety of the shore. Vague shouts reached her ears, but she couldn't make any sense of them. As she grew closer, she could see the blurred outline of Severus and someone who might, or might not be, Dumbledore. It wasn't far now and Saoirse gave a whinny of alarm as her back legs failed to find solid ground. She plunged backwards into the icy water. The movement was so sudden and so violent that Maeve lost her grip on the horse, and as they tumbled down through the icy depths, she felt the animal move away from her.

This was a strange world, and as she instinctively closed her mouth against the onslaught of the water, she found her eyes opening to take in her surroundings. It was surprisingly clear and the light that filtered in from the breaking ice was fragmented, giving a glowing, blue-green taint to the water. She began to try to swim upwards, but her limbs had become leaden with the cold and she couldn't move them. As the deadly chill found its insidious way into her head, she began to feel pleasantly numb. This was painless and made her feel sleepy. Her right arm caught on a tangle of weeds, and her aimless floating came to a halt as she settled by the plant that had ensnared her. In the distance she could see the indistinct forms of two creatures drifting towards her, and she recognised the curious faces as two of the merpeople who lived in the lake. They were welcoming her to their home. Helping her never crossed their minds because she had come to them and it was their business to drag her further into their murky world. And she was happy to go; bewitched by the cold and the inability to help herself, she forgot Remus, she forgot her own life, and she didn't give Hogwarts a second thought as she felt arms slip beneath her shoulders.

And then she was pulled violently upwards and water churned around her face. It felt like being in the centre of a maelstrom as wet, black cloth enfolded her and she could feel herself begin to drown anew. As she broke the surface of the lake, the clear daylight made her wince. The air hit her lungs, making her retch with pain. Strong arms were pulling her to the shore and she was dragged along the shingle before being dropped gently. Coughing the last of the water out of her chest, she lay there as several faces peered at her with concern. The enchantment of the lake was wearing off her as quickly as it had captured her, and her senses returned. Besides Maeve, kneeling on the ground as water dripped from his robes, was Severus, and beside him were several astounded students, who were unable to believe what their eyes had just seen. Their normally controlled and uncaring Potions master had just risked his life to bring Professor O'Malley up from the lake; to say they were speechless was an understatement.

"Professor McGonagall, please take the students back to the castle," Professor Dumbledore said quietly. "And fetch Madam Pomfrey."

"No!" Maeve exclaimed as she tried to stand up. The chill was leaving her legs and in its wake came a painful return of feeling. Dumbledore lent her his arm after she ignored his instructions to stay on the ground until Poppy arrived. "I don't need to go to the hospital wing. I'm fine. Remus has been captured."

Whatever Dumbledore had been expecting her to say it obviously wasn't that because he gripped her arm more tightly and asked her to explain.

"I saw a… a vision, an apparition. I don't know what it was…" She looked back out across the lake as if the explanation could be found there, but the water was now still. The only movement came from the shivering horse, which was being lead away by Hagrid after having found its own way to safety. "I saw Remus being captured by a woman, but it was strange…."

"Are you sure you didn't…" Dumbledore began, but she broke in angrily.

"No! I did not imagine it. It was happening, it just wasn't happening here." A violent shiver tore through her. Dumbledore waved his wand over her and replaced her wet clothes with dry ones and, after doing the same for Severus, led her back up to the castle.

The fire blazed high in Professor Dumbledore's study and two chairs had been drawn up close to it, their occupants shivering only slightly now as the warming draught, prepared by Madam Pomfrey, worked its magic.

"I shouldn't be here. I should be helping Remus," Maeve protested. Severus flinched at the mention of Remus.

"And how do you propose to do that?" he asked. "You have no idea if the," he hesitated over the word, and when it did come he said it with icy disbelief, "vision was real or just a projection of something that didn't happen."

"It was real. I half-recognised the woman. She was haggard and wicked looking, clearly a Death Eater."

"Old? Young?"

"Oldish, probably a bit older than we are. She had dark hair with grey streaks and really deep-set eyes."

Severus gave a sharp intake of breath as he recognised the description, and he didn't fancy Remus Lupin's chances much if he was in the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. He didn't tell Maeve this though; he had some sympathy for her. Despite his own feelings about Lupin she was attached to him for some strange reason, and he didn't want to make this situation any worse. Maeve either didn't notice his reaction or she chose to ignore it. She was edgy and eager to do something constructive to help find Remus, but she had a feeling she wasn't going to be allowed to leave. Perhaps she would have to be prepared to leave Hogwarts against Albus' wishes.

"I hope you're not thinking of doing anything stupid," Severus drawled, pushing his chair back from the fire as the heat became oppressive.

"No, of course not." she said in a very unconvincing tone of voice. "But we have to do something."

"We?" he snorted. "I hope you don't think I'm going to risk my neck for a werewolf."

The door opened and Professor Dumbledore walked slowly in, his head hung low, and he carried with him the air of defeat.

"Your vision was true." He said the words without looking at either of them as he sank heavily into his familiar chair. "I have just heard from a very distraught Tonks, and it would appear Remus was captured two hours ago in a cowardly attack as he left a pub in Shoreditch. The attack was carried out by an unidentified female Death Eater. There was nothing anyone could have done."

Maeve bit her lip in agitation and waited for him to continue.

"I have also spoken to Roderick Rampton, the young man who followed you out onto the ice. He has confirmed that there was no one else apart from you out on the lake this afternoon, and he also informed me that he was unable to use magic while you were out there. This is something we already knew because our charms to bring you back safely rebounded on us"

"I have never experienced anything like that before, Professor," she said. "I have always thought visions were for charlatans and travelling fairs."

"That's a little unfair, my dear. Whilst they are uncommon, they are not unheard of. When a sufficient mental and magical connection exists between two people it is sometimes possible for such a projection to be made. Remus must have felt he needed to get in touch with you very badly for this to have happened."

"Well it didn't do him much good did it?" Severus said bitterly. "She couldn't aid a vision."

Professor Dumbledore found himself wishing once again that his Potions master had the sense to keep quiet sometimes. He possessed a harsh tongue that was merciless in its choice of victims, and he never failed to use it.

"No, Severus, that is true enough. There must have been something in that vision which he felt was significant," he said turning again to Maeve. "Was there?"

She stretched out her legs in front of the increasing heat and enjoyed the almost painful sensation as the flames flicked their intensity over her bared legs. "I can't remember anything," she admitted. "It all happened so quickly that I really didn't have the chance to register anything unusual. He wasn't wearing the robes I gave him at Christmas though; I think that was why he was vulnerable."

"Robes?" Severus raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "You gave him robes?"

"Embroidered with protection," she continued. "Yesterday I had a small problem with my fingers and I didn't recognise then what it was, but it was a sign that my magic had been damaged."

"Oh, that's unfortunate," Dumbledore said as Severus gave one of his infamous snorts. "I wonder how they came to be damaged, and why Remus didn't contact you about it immediately. He knew about the protection?"

"Yes he did. Perhaps he sent a message and it didn't get through." Maeve pulled her reddened legs away from the fire and followed Severus in moving her chair away from the heat. Neither of them seemed to be suffering any ill-effects from their unexpected dip in the lake, and Maeve was only too aware she still hadn't thanked Severus for his unselfish act in diving in to pull her out.

"Possibly," Dumbledore toyed with a small magical device on his desk, pushing the golden cogs around the glass dome they lived in. "I have to say this, Maeve, because I know you have a very strong connection with Remus. You must not leave Hogwarts to try and find him. There will be Aurors searching for him as we speak and they will do everything they can to bring him back." He stopped short of saying alive, but, nevertheless, the unspoken word hung in the air between the three of them. "It would be foolish of you to try anything alone, and I cannot extend my protection beyond the bounds of the school."

Maeve tried to assess just how determined the headmaster was to keep her at the school, and the steely glint in his eyes gave her the impression he was deadly serious indeed. It would be very difficult for her to leave with the Aurors and Severus watching her anyway. The feeling of uselessness was eating away at her as she thought of the possible fate Remus had waiting for him. As they sat there in the safe, comfortable study, watching the fire glow and sipping hot coffee, he was in the hands of the enemy, and who knew what they were doing to him. She gripped the arm of the chair as a fresh wave of despair lapped at her skin as she pictured him with his captors.

"You need to rest," Dumbledore said to them both. "What you did today, Severus, was very brave and I thank you for it. I am sure Maeve feels the same.

She nodded, and the look she gave Severus contained all the thanks he needed. He would have drowned if it would have saved her life, and he hated himself for it. They both got to their feet, Dumbledore eliciting one last promise from Maeve that she would not do anything stupid before allowing them to leave his office.

They parted and both went to rest in their respective offices, Maeve felt the shadow behind her again, but she saw no flash of red and assumed that Roderick had already changed shifts with Titus Snow. This troubled her a little; she had become very used to the fluttering presence of Roderick and it made her uncomfortable knowing he was not there.

Bella was ecstatic as she dropped down onto the lawn at Abbeylara with the rigid figure of Remus Lupin firmly clamped to her broomstick. It had been an arduous ride across the wild Irish Sea, but the prize she carried was worth the inconvenience caused by the mode of transport. She had used a Silencing Charm on him as they rose above London; the last thing she needed to hear was his whining voice as she concentrated on the long journey. Abbeylara was quiet and she knew that the other Death Eaters would be out on deadlier missions than her own. It had been a waiting game, but when he had finally stepped out of the pub without those dark robes she hadn't been able to believe her luck. Bella was no fool, and it hadn't taken her long to recognise the enchanted robes for what they were. It certainly explained their difficulty in bringing them him in. Without them, it had been relatively easy to pick him up. Of course, he had put up a spirited fight, but he had been no match for her on her broomstick. She had had only one moment of anxiety, and that was when she had tried to use the Cruciatus Curse; nothing had happened and this puzzled her. Binding spells were childish magic to a witch with her capacity for cruelty, but in this case they had worked and enabled her to bring him in without too much fuss. The only other thing that had worried her was the vision of a woman as they had swept through the main gates. For just a second she was sure she had seen a red horse galloping towards her with a green-cloaked woman in the saddle. The image had been the briefest flash and she had attributed it to her tiredness after the long ride across the sea.

She dropped her broom and pulled Remus to a standing position before forcing him towards the house. He hobbled along in his bindings, and it made the walk a long one as he kept falling over. Bella merely laughed, kicking at him with a sharp-toed, black shoe to get him to his feet again. She didn't loosen the ropes, nor did she help him to his feet. It was worth the long walk just to watch him suffer. Once in the house, she directed him towards the library where she knew her Dark Lord was waiting for her, unaware of the gift she was bringing.

"Master," she said softly as she pushed open the doors and thrust her prisoner in ahead of her. As Remus fell once more to the floor, Voldemort's back emerged from the large chair by the desk and he turned to see what it was Bella had brought. When he saw the bundle on the floor his red eyes blazed with triumph.

"Excellent!" he called and Bella simpered beneath his exultant gaze. "I knew you would not fail me, Bella. I knew that I could depend on your skill to bring me what I desired."

He walked across to her, carefully bypassing the bundle on the floor, and for one breathless moment Bella thought he was going to make physical contact. Her body quivered in anticipation. But instead he reached around her and slammed the doors shut before instructing her to close the curtains. He allowed Remus to lie there for a few moments before using his wand to remove the ropes that bound him. Remus was no fool and knew that to make any quick attempts at escape would ensure his death, so he stayed on the floor and waited to see why he hadn't been killed instantly.

"So, werewolf," Voldemort began, "I have you in my power at last. How delightful for me and unfortunate for you."

"What do you want? "Remus mouthed and Voldemort gave him a twisted smile.

"My Bella is such a torment isn't she," he hissed as he removed the Silencing Charm. "You were saying?"

"What do you want?" His voice was hoarse, and cracked when he spoke.

"I want it all," Voldemort said with relish. "I want what is mine, and I will have it, with your help."

"Don't be ridiculous," Remus said bravely. "You must know I will not help you in any way."

"But you already are helping me, just by being here." Voldemort ran long fingers across the top of the chair nearest to him and the action made Remus shudder with revulsion. "Because when the woman knows I have you. she will be unable to resist the urge to come and get you, and then I will have her. If you are very lucky, I will let you watch each other die."

"What woman?" Remus asked

"What woman? Why, the woman who used to live in this very house. Your erstwhile sister." Voldemort grimaced as he forced himself to say her name. "Maeve O'Malley, the one that stands between myself and the boy."

Remus blinked very quickly. He hoped Maeve would have the sense not to come after him, and for once he found himself wishing that Severus Snape would exercise some influence over her. There was no way that Severus would allow her to come chasing after him, no way at all.

"She won't come because she will not be allowed to leave Hogwarts," Remus said quietly.

"Oh, she will come," Bella said suddenly from her position by the windows. "She is a woman and she loves you. She will come."

Voldemort gave Bella a sharp look and snarled at her to keep quiet, which made Bella shiver with pleasure.

"And how will she know where I am?" Remus asked, although he had the strangest feeling that, as they had come through the gates of this gaunt, grey house, he had seen her face. A face contorted with terror, riding a powerful horse that seemed to be floating above a lake.

"Because we are going to send her your wand and a little note," Voldemort said calmly. "Perhaps we might also send her a small piece of your flesh, just to convince her we mean business."

"This is a little melodramatic isn't it," Remus said. He had no fear of Voldemort now he was face to face with him. Remus had long since resigned himself to his death, and this was just one more step on that ever-shortening road. "I would have though the great Voldemort could come up with something a little more spectacular then getting a woman to run after a man. This is the stuff of pulp fiction."

"_Crucio!_" Voldemort had his wand out before Remus could blink. The curse hit him square in the chest, but Remus remained standing and Bella coughed from her position by the window.

"_CRUCIO!_" Voldemort screamed angrily as Bella crossed the room and was about to touch him on the shoulder. He spun round quickly and his eyes made her draw back in delicious fear. "WHAT!" he spat.

"The curse will not work on him," she said. "I tried it and it dispersed into the air."

"How can it not work?" he turned back to Remus. "Why is it not working, half-breed?"

Remus shrugged as if he didn't know or care but he couldn't understand it any more than Voldemort could.

"_CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO!_" The Dark wizard shouted, each curse louder than the one before it. And still nothing happened.

At least nothing happened outwardly, but Remus could feel something happening deep within him, and he knew it was completely unrelated to the curse that Voldemort was trying to cast on him. More than anything else that had happened today, this was puzzling him, because he could feel the onset of the madness that would turn him from his usual mild-mannered form into a raving, demonic creature, and he would lose control in front of Voldemort. He said nothing to Voldemort of this and watched in a detached manner as Voldemort went from pale snakelike creature to a boiling tower of rage.

"This cannot be!" he shrieked at Bella. "What did you do?"

"I did nothing, Master. Please believe me." There was a desperate tone to her voice as she grovelled backwards, away from the anger.

"You must have."

"No, Master. I swear he was like that when I brought him in." She tripped against a chair and fell backwards into the curtain, dragging it with her as she went down, and the light of the newly-risen full moon fell into the room.

They faced each other angrily and did not see the onset of the transformation, but they heard the first roar of agony. Both turned to watch as thick fur replaced pale skin and limbs began to shorten and take on a new form.

"I thought he was cured of this?" Voldemort asked Bella, who had now staggered to her feet.

"Wolfsbane; he is supposed to take Wolfsbane. This should not be happening."

"Well it is happening," Voldemort said tetchily. "And what is more, I am going to have to kill him now." There was a petulant tone to the Dark wizard's voice as he busily calculated how this situation could be resolved. "Do you have his wand?"

"Yes." Bella looked nervously towards the screaming Remus, who was now almost fully transformed. His snout lengthened and the cries were replaced by a spirit-crushing howl.

"Very well then, we will just have to pretend he is still alive. It is enough that they know we have him."

The werewolf seemed to notice he had company for the first time and with a low growl he sprang straight for Voldemort, who calmly pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at the flying werewolf.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" he cried, and the werewolf dropped lifelessly to the floor as the green flash hit it.

"He would have died anyway," Voldemort said almost ruefully, walking across and kicking the dead werewolf with his toe. "Find someone to get rid of the body. Throw it into the woods and let the worms have it."


	22. A Journey Home

Maeve didn't even attempt to sleep; it would have been an impossibility. She paced around the room for a time, picking up books and putting them back unopened. Several times she pulled back the curtain, and finally opened the window to allow the cold night air in. It was as if, by letting it in, she was letting a small part of the ache she felt fly out in exchange. She wanted to rise above the clouds, leaving all this pain and uncertainty behind. It suddenly felt as if she had swapped one prison for another. This was the price she paid for allowing love into her life, the cost to caring for others, and grief was the currency used to reclaim the debt.

She had known grief before, grief for her mother and for her grandmother. To an extent, she had grieved for the loss of Severus too, at the same time as she had mourned her grandmother. But none of it compared to this awful depression that settled about her shoulders like a cloak of iron. Nothing could come close to this desperate ache she was experiencing as she realised that she had failed to protect Remus and had not been there when he needed her. This was pure flattery, of course, and delusion. There were no guarantees she could have helped Remus, even if she had been there, and chances are she would have been a liability as he tried to protect her. But she didn't know that, in the same way she didn't know if he was alive or dead, and it tormented her. She had thought, as a child, that she would always know when people she loved died. But she hadn't felt her mother's death, so she had given up on this idea. Now the feeling came back. Would she know if Remus died? Would the visions convey that to her?

At about ten o'clock she heard muffled sounds outside her door and what was most definitely Severus's voice muttering at someone. She knew exactly what he was doing; he would be placing a Confinement Charm on the door to stop her trying anything stupid in the night. How very Severus-like it was, and she couldn't help the feeling of love that bubbled up in her throat for the strange, prickly man. She fretted and fussed herself into a light sleep that did nothing to ease her mind, and woke early the following morning feeling even worse than she had the night before.

Breakfast was a strained affair as she moved her unwanted food around her plate, making no attempt to eat. Several times she had seen Professor McGonagall on the point of saying something, but each time the older woman had stopped herself and Maeve was glad of it. She didn't feel up to the challenge of making conversation with anyone, even the sympathetic Professor McGonagall. As the owls swept into the room there was a buzz of excitement and surprise from the students. Amongst the fluttering owls was a darker, more unusual breed, with sleek black feathers and a murderous-looking beak. The raven wheeled around, its sharp eyes searching the top table. Professor McGonagall was on her feet and wondering what to do about the new arrival. Before she could make up her mind on a course of action, however, the dark bird swooped down and dropped something on the table in front of Maeve, who regarded the glossy bird with sudden interest. There had been birds like that on the estate where she had grown up, and she had often thought of them as guardians of the land, standing watch over her and the family. It gave a loud, harsh croak before rising into the air once more and made good its escape.

The package the raven had dropped was long and thin, wrapped in what appeared to be newspaper. Carefully Maeve reached forward and peeled back the wrapping, catching sight of the masthead as she did so – it was the _Irish Prophet_. The wand rolled away from the newspaper and her hand shot out to stop it clattering to the floor. As her fingers closed round the wood she could feel it vibrating beneath her touch, and she knew to whom it had belonged. She gripped it so tightly it seemed as if either her fingers or the wood must break with the force. This was a message from Voldemort. She moved away from the table with a bleak look on her face. As she staggered slightly, a red arm caught her. She found herself being led from the hall by Roderick, while rumours and speculation flew through the children, their breakfasts forgotten. Only one person had recognised the contents of the package, and he made flustered excuses as he left his companions and followed the distressed professor at a discreet distance.

Harry felt sick. He watched as the Auror led Maeve into her room. He waited outside tugging at his hair and pacing the corridor. Something had gone wrong with the potion; it must have. Why had someone sent Maeve Remus' wand? What could it possibly mean? He slipped behind the statue that stood midway down the corridor as Roderick suddenly appeared from Maeve's room, sriding off in the opposite direction. With anxiety pricking at his mind, he approached Maeve's door and knocked lightly before pushing it open, unwilling to wait for permission to enter.

She was sitting at her desk with her head in her hands; the stray wand had been placed reverentially on the oak surface before her. As she heard the door open she looked up and gave Harry a weak smile.

"Hi, Harry," she said. "I'm sorry, it really isn't a good time at the moment."

"That's Remus' wand," Harry said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "Why has someone sent it to you?"

"I don't know," she replied as honestly as she could.

"Is he dead?" The blunt question made her wince as she tried to look Harry in the eye.

"I don't know," she repeated. "Come and have a seat."

"You must have some idea. Is this something to do with what happened on the lake yesterday?" He sat down opposite her, wondering if now was the time to come clean. If Remus was dead or in danger then the matter of the potion had to be revealed.

"Yesterday I saw something on the lake. It was a projection of something that we believe happened to Remus at roughly the same time."

"What was it?" Harry asked, his throat dry and constricted.

"Remus has been captured by a Death Eater. It happened yesterday outside some pub in Shoreditch," she said sorrowfully. "We still have no idea what they have done with him, but this is some sort of message, isn't it?"

She picked up the wand and touched the wood gently, as if this would, in some way, connect her to the missing wizard.

"What exactly happened?" Harry persisted, his unease growing rapidly.

"He was weak. It was a bad time of the month and he had lost a protective item." Maeve looked at Harry to try and gauge his reaction. She was unsurprised to see his face was bleached white. She knew how highly he regarded his former teacher and friend.

"What sort of item?"

"His robes. When I saw him, he wasn't wearing a special set of robes."

"I know where they are," Harry said in a very quiet voice.

"What?"

"I know what happened to his robes; they're here." Harry stared down at his hands, his face working with agitation. Maeve, by contrast, had grown very still, and her voice was low when she next spoke.

"What happened, Harry?" she asked, placing her hands on the desk, afraid they would do something regrettable if left by her wand.

"We made a potion and…"

"Who's we?" she snapped.

"Hermione and I. We made a potion to help Remus." He stopped and looked at her face, but found the anger in her eyes too difficult to take for long so he swiftly looked away again. "It was supposed to stop him becoming a werewolf. Hermione spilled his Wolfsbane so she could substitute ours for the real one. It accidentally splashed over his robes and they melted, so he gave them to me to bring here so I could ask you to mend them." Harry ran out of steam and sat there waiting for the rising storm of her anger to burst over him.

"Which potion did you u…?" And suddenly she knew the answer to the mystery of her disappearing book. "You stole my book, didn't you?"

"I borrowed it," he said, trying to defend the indefensible.

"You stole it, Harry." She brushed aside his words. "How did you know what was in it?"

"I overheard you talking to Snape in the grounds."

"PROFESSOR Snape!" she barked, agitation making her correct things that she would normally have let pass. "A little respect wouldn't go amiss, Harry, for both people and their belongings." She tried to regain her composure before continuing. "And so you made the potion…"

"Hermione made it. I persuaded her. It was my fault." The words were like tiny curses, aimed solely at himself.

Maeve needed someone to take her frustration and anger out on, and when Harry said Hermione's name for the second time, she realised she had found just the person.

"What lesson is Hermione likely to be in now?" she asked coldly.

"Potions," Harry said, oblivious to the irony.

"How appropriate," Maeve spat, oblivious to nothing. She rose from her seat, and with rapid strides left Harry sitting in her office with an explicit instruction not to leave.

The journey from her office to Severus' classroom was a short one, but it gave her sufficient time to work herself into a frenzy of anger at the risks both Harry and Hermione had taken with someone else's life. She threw open the door without knocking, ignoring the immediate look of anger and annoyance on Severus' face. All the students looked up from their cauldrons at the sudden interruption and were amazed to see the fierce look of fury on their normally calm professor's face.

"Hermione Granger!" she shouted. Hermione immediately put her potion making equipment down and looked at the towering rage that had become Maeve O'Malley.

"Professor O'Malley…" Severus began, in his iciest tones.

"Not now, Severus," she said calmly, her anger making her address him in familiar tones. Hermione doggedly made her way towards her.

"Yes, Professor." The voice was small, with none of its usual confidence, which only served to enrage Maeve further.

"Would you care to explain to the class why you chose to take it upon yourself to make a very complex and dangerous potion? A potion which has resulted in the capture and possible death of a much respected, and much loved, man?"

Hermione looked as if she was about to be sick and she grabbed at a desk for support.

"No? Perhaps you would like to explain why you believed you had the capability to cure someone of something that all the best Healers in the country had thus far failed to do?"

"I…." It was a croak that died away to nothing.

"Surely you must have realised that, great though your powers might be, there are some things beyond even the spectacularly clever Hermione Granger."

"I'm sorry." The words were barely there and Maeve laughed horribly at them.

"You're sorry? SORRY?" She stepped forward and clasped Hermione's arms tightly. "Sorry doesn't even begin to approach the damage you have done with your devious meddling. Did it never occur to you what the consequences of your actions could be? Did it never occur to you that you were about to send someone to their death?"

To her credit, Hermione did not give in to the tears that threatened her. She faced the tirade with her chin lowered and her body trembling. Severus watched with interest at first. It made a pleasant change to have someone other than himself admonishing one of the students in such a volcanic manner. That was until Wolfsbane was mentioned, and then he approached the student and teacher with rather more interest.

"I didn't know about the robes," Hermione pleaded. "I had no idea what the Wolfsbane would do to them. I didn't think."

"OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T THINK, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Maeve's fury burst forth and flowed over the miserable girl, who, for the first time ever, was completely lost for words.

"Are you suggesting," Severus said softly, "that this student substituted the Wolfsbane potion for one of her own?"

"I'm not _suggesting_ anything!" Maeve snarled at him. "Because that's exactly what she did."

"Is this true, Miss Granger?"

Hermione realised from his tone she was now facing double trouble; a dangerous combination of fire and ice was raining down on her. She had never felt so sorry for anything she had done in her life. All her reservations about making the potion had become reality, and she had no idea how she was going to get out of this situation. Fortunately for her, the door opened to reveal a concerned-looking Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor O'Malley, Miss Granger, if I may have a moment of your time, please?" He ignored the furious look from Severus, who was annoyed at having his fun spoilt. Most of the students were also feeling a little cheated. It wasn't often you got to see a teacher go so spectacularly off the rails with a student.

"Yes," Maeve said in a curt voice as she marched towards the door without a backward glance at the class. Hermione followed at a rather more sedate pace. Whatever was about to happen could only be worse than the scene she had just endured, and she was in no hurry to meet her fate.

Once they were in the corridor and the door had closed behind them, Professor Dumbledore spoke in a very even tone. He had a great deal of compassion for the differing positions of the two people he was faced with.

"I have spoken with Harry. He came to find me as soon as you left him, Maeve." Dumbledore nodded in her direction and she looked even angrier at yet another infringement of an instruction. "Now, I understand that what Miss Granger has done is very serious." This time it was Hermione who was on the receiving end of his stern look and she quivered slightly.

"I only did it be…"

He held his hand up and cut her off mid-explanation.

"It doesn't matter at the moment. The only thing that matters is that Remus is lost to us, and we must behave in a prudent manner in order to attempt to retrieve him."

"With respect, Professor…" Maeve began, but it was her turn to face a raised hand and a calm look.

"No, now is not the time for arguments. I will speak with you both separately. I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that I cannot entirely overlook your major transgression this time. However, there will be nothing gained from a heated argument in front of a room full of eager eavesdroppers." He sighed and folded his arms across his chest in an authoritative manner. If any ever doubted that Albus Dumbledore had a firm grip on the school, his current attitude would quickly dispel those thoughts. "Now, I would like you to return to your lesson, Miss Granger, and I will see you in my office at lunchtime."

Hermione nodded and half-heartedly returned to the classroom, where she would now have to face the bitter rage of Professor Snape, not to mention the gloating stares of the Slytherins and the hundred questions that would surely come from her own house members.

"Maeve, take the rest of the day off. You are too overwrought to be taking classes today. It was my mistake in allowing you to continue normally," Dumbledore said sadly to his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher when Hermione had closed the door behind her.

"I'm perfectly capable of discharging my duties, Professor," she said stiffly, a little annoyed at the seemingly easy time he had given Hermione Granger.

"I know. However, I think it would be beneficial both for yourself and the students if you spent the day elsewhere."

She looked into his steel-blue eyes and knew she had no choice but to concede to his request. She turned on her heel, stalking down the hallway and out of his sight. He watched her go regretfully, knowing she would be feeling let down by his decision to allow Hermione to go back to her lessons, but he didn't see what else he could do. Punishing Hermione immediately wouldn't bring Remus back to them.

Once back in her rooms, Maeve kicked the wastebasket over in frustration and threw a whole roll of unused parchment at the fire. It hit the sleeping salamander square on the head, causing it to shoot out of its red-hot home, which sent a shower of sparks onto the rug. A few holes appeared in the weave of the carpet and it seemed to rise slightly from the floor in agitation before being trampled back down as the Salamander scrambled to get back into the heat of the fire. Had Maeve not been so incensed she would have found the little dance amusing, but as it was, she barely noticed.

Flinging herself onto the floating chair, she began a mindless spinning that soon made her feel sick and she had to stop. It was ridiculous, she thought, that a student could do something so awful and completely against the rules and get off so lightly. She knew Dumbledore had said he would give her some sort of punishment, but knowing the benevolent headmaster it would probably extra homework, and Hermione would think of that as a reward rather than a punishment. For a few hours Maeve had complete sympathy with Severus and his frustration that some students appeared to get away with murder.

Roderick was a surprise visitor later that evening. He strode into her room unannounced and plonked himself on her sofa with every appearance of stopping for a good while. She wordlessly uncapped a bottle of Firewhisky and offered him a drink, which he accepted with alacrity.

"Off duty now, so I might as well. Old Titus has set up camp outside your door, and I saw that miserable chappie Snape wandering around with intent. He was very cheesed off when I came in and muttered something about coming back later," he said, as he kicked off his well-made shoes and hoisted his feet up onto the sofa.

"Oh, he's putting a charm on the door to stop me getting out in the night. It's ridiculous really," she explained with a degree of frustration.

"He's frightfully keen on you, isn't he?" Roderick asked and Maeve blushed just a little. "Ah! I thought so. Good Galloping Gorgons, what do you see in him?"

"I ask myself the same question with alarming frequency." She laughed, momentarily forgetting the cause of all her worries.

"So, what really happened yesterday?"

"I had a moment of madness," she said, unsure of how far she could trust him.

"Professor Dumbledore seems to think you were the recipient of a message, from Remus Lupin."

"Yes, he does, and I think so too, although Merlin alone knows how he managed it. What else did Dumbledore tell you?"

"Not much. I think he operates on a need-to-know basis. Although he was asking Snape to do something for him earlier that I don't think Snape was too pleased about." Roderick winked at her. "You're not going to attempt anything silly, are you?"

"Why does everyone think I am going to do something silly?" she asked. "Yes, I'm frustrated and upset by the situation, but there's nothing I can do. I don't even know where Remus is."

"I picked up the newspaper that your package was wrapped in this morning," he said, not giving the comment much emphasis. Nevertheless he watched her surreptitiously to see whether she had placed any significance on the Irish newspaper.

"Did you?" She met his eyes and looked away quickly, not quite ready to share her suspicions. She had turned over the events of yesterday so many times she was weary of it, but one thing that had returned was the brief glimpse of Abbeylara as the window into Remus' world closed. She had placed three things beside each other and come up with an answer; Remus had showed her Abbeylara, his wand had arrived in an Irish newspaper, and Voldemort was known to be using her former home. So her best educated guess was that Remus was being held at Abbeylara – or worse, he had been taken to Abbeylara to be killed.

"I thought you might have had some idea where your friend had been taken," Roderick suggested gently, and Maeve was struck by the change in him. He had gone from a slightly jolly drinking companion to calm interrogator in one swift stroke.

She chewed her lip as she debated telling him the truth, and in the end decided on a half-truth. There was no reason to tell him about seeing Abbeylara.

"I think he's been taken to Ireland. I know that Voldemort has a base there and the newspaper suggests that's where he might be, don't you think?" She was interested in his opinion. He was, after all, an Auror and had done extensive training, so his input would be worth something. Although, as it happened, he didn't really have much to say on the matter.

"It's a possibility, but without further evidence it would be hard to say," he replied, and she got the distinct feeling that he had got all the information he wanted because he abruptly changed the subject to their respective time at Hogwarts. He was charming and funny company; his anecdotes about the time he spent at the school made her laugh in spite of herself. She had very few of her own stories to swap with him, and what she had mostly concerned her childhood home.

"The gardens were the best bit, especially the vegetable and fruit patches. I stole so much fruit I think our gardener despaired. He would often have to order in extra from the village because whole blackberry bushes would be stripped bare. We had a small orchard too, with some lovely trees. I broke my arm once when I fell from one. Everyone said it was my own fault and let me suffer for a bit before fixing it." She smiled at the recollections. They were, for the most, part good memories, up until the time her mother had died. Roderick noticed her face change as she thought about her mother and quickly stepped in with a tale of his own to take her mind of whatever was troubling her.

"We had a maze." He grinned. "It was a huge thing. I would always be getting lost in it. It took them days to find me sometimes, but I always took supplies with me so it was more of an adventure than anything. They never could understand why I didn't just use magic to get out; they never understood the fun of it. Of course the real fun was to be had in the underground tunnels that a batty great-great-great grandfather had dug beneath the grounds."

"Tunnels?" Maeve asked with a shiver. "I hate tunnels. I get really claustrophobic. How on earth could you have had fun down there!"

"It was marvellous," Roderick insisted. "They stretched for miles and miles, and opened up into great, echoing caverns. All the caverns were hand-made, of course, but impressive all the same. They were lit constantly with a huge network of electric light, another silly fancy of an ancestor. Why he wanted electric lights, I'll never know."

"And you played down there? How gruesome." She smiled and finished her drink. Roderick looked quickly at the clock, pulled a face, and made a move to get up.

"I'd better get going or your friend will be getting impatient to put his charm on that door. Want me to have a word with him? It seems a bit of an impertinence, locking you in your room."

"No, don't worry about it," Maeve said indulgently. "It keeps him happy and he feels like he's protecting me. Coming from Severus, that's a high honour indeed."

Roderick smiled as he walked towards the outer door.

"Well, as long as you are sure," he said lightly.

"Very sure," she insisted. She couldn't imagine him coming off better in an exchange with Severus anyway; it would be duelling wands at dawn if the two of them started arguing. "Thanks for dropping in, I really appreciate it."

"No probs! And don't be doing anything silly now, will you?" he said.

"No, I won't do anything silly," she replied as she swung the door closed. "At least, not what I consider to be silly," she added in a whisper.

A few minutes later she could hear Severus trying to move silently outside her room and she caught a faint whiff of his magic as he placed the charm on her door again. It was almost seven and she circled the room a few times, trying to focus her mind on something constructive, like marking homework. It was impossible of course; she would never have been able to concentrate on anything. It was a quiet evening, if a little chilly. She found, as she stuck her head out of the window, she could hear the faint noises of Quidditch practice coming to an end, shouts and jeers from the students as they commiserated and congratulated each other depending on how well their practice had gone. Pulling her head back in, she flopped down on the recently vacated sofa and tried to think her way around this dilemma, but she couldn't think at all and instead she found herself staring into space as the day died around her. She must have nodded off and when she woke a quick glance at the clock told her it was a little after nine o'clock. She could sense something moving closer to her through the night, something beyond the room and yet in the room. Light flickered and faded by the window and she was fully awake now, her skin tingling with expectation. The particles of light seemed to be shifting and struggling to form some kind of recognisable shape, and then with a crack of energy, they created a very familiar image.

"Remus," she breathed as the ghostly shape hovered by the window. And she knew he was dead and this was his ghost come to tell her so. The apparition didn't seem to have the power of speech, but as he stepped to one side she could see an image of woods forming and she knew they weren't the woods outside Hogwarts. They were dense and gloomy, but even in the dark they looked familiar. Remus walked into the image and she saw him sit down on a large stone mound that was lying on the forest floor. No, that wasn't a stone mound! That was a dolmen, and she knew exactly where it was – it was in the forest at Abbeylara. And the ghostly Remus was smiling at her and waving. What was going on?

She fought the feeling of optimism that began to surge through her. She had no way of knowing if this was a message or a hallucination. Was it the product of her hopeful imagination and therefore just wishful thinking? The image began to blur and the background disappeared altogether, leaving Remus sitting on thin air looking tired and ill. He managed a weak smile before the image wavered, grew momentarily brighter, and then vanished completely.

Now she knew she had to do something. If there was a possibility that Remus was alive and needed rescuing, then Dumbledore needed to know. But did he? The more she thought of the past few months, the more she grew doubtful at the course of action he would pursue. The recent situation with Hermione was still affecting her judgement and she wasn't ready to go to Dumbledore with this. Could she go alone? Should she go alone? There was only one quick way to get to Abbeylara and that was by broom, but it was such a long journey and she didn't know if she could make it.

Her brain was humming with so many possibilities that she didn't know where to start. She wasn't fool enough to accept what she had just seen on face value. It could, of course, be a trick on the part of Voldemort aimed at luring her there so that he could dispose of her. But it could also be a genuine plea for help on the part of Remus, who was now wandless, broomless and obviously in the woods at Abbeylara. If she was going to help him, she would have to leave now, tonight, and the door was charmed closed. She suddenly regretted not letting Roderick intervene when Severus had placed the charm on the door, but she hadn't been expecting a visitation that would change things so utterly.

The window was the only option, but as she was not on the ground floor it could prove tricky, manoeuvring her broom through the window and climbing aboard would be awkward, but not impossible. Where was her broom? She looked with dismay at the vacant place where her broom normally stood, and mentally kicked herself when she remembered she had left it in the general storage hut next to the Quidditch pitch a few days ago. She had been following Remus' advice to practice and had been doing circles of the pitch to improve her speed, not that it had improved her technique much.

This was a big blow to her rapidly forming plans, and one she felt she couldn't overcome. She couldn't just Accio her broom; it would draw too much attention as it left the hut. She was about to start throwing things again to release some of her frustration, a habit she was growing rather too fond of and would have to try to break, when she was reminded of her tantrum earlier in the day and something the salamander had done. Walking across to the fire she stood on the rug and looked down at the scorch marks where the Salamander's small feet had made contact with the threads. When the Salamander had hurried across it to get back to the fire, the thing had been floating as if it had been trying to get away from the spitting flames.

She bent down to examine it closer, not yet daring to hope that her suspicions could be true. It was definitely Persian, she could tell that by the intricate patterns and the colouring, and the age was about right for what she was beginning to hope for. But it had been a long time since she had studied such things and wasn't sure she could even make it work. Bending down she touched the fabric gently and there it was! A gentle vibration that ran throughout the rug, which meant it was useable. The magic hadn't died from lack of use, and if only she could remember the charm that would unlock its potential then here was the perfect way to get out of her room.

Withdrawing her wand she pointed it at the carpet and muttered, "_Wingardium Leviosa_". The carpet shuddered and she had the sneaky feeling it was laughing at her. She shook away the ridiculous thought and tried again. "_Locomotor Carpet_." This time the edges of the carpet curled, and Maeve knew the carpet was now definitely filled with mirth. In desperation she tried a Hover Charm, but the carpet rolled itself up and stayed there like a huge, fat sausage with a fringe.

"What is the matter with you?" She stamped her foot. These old magic carpets were all well and good, but they could be very tricky to use, unlike the more sensible English carpets. Persian carpets were very fiery and prone to bouts of pique if you upset them too much. A nice Axminster would have been up in the air and halfway to their destination by now. She glanced around the room, wondering if it would be possible to put a Hover Charm on a cushion or her bedspread, but she knew that either the cushion would be too small or the bedspread too floppy.

"Oh, please, Carpet," she wheedled. "Help me out here. You're my only chance of getting out of this room." The thing twitched slightly and unfurled just the tiniest bit. Maeve smiled as she bent down and spoke softly, a cunning look on her face.

"I would really appreciate it if you would unfurl and help me out of the window. I am so sorry about that unfortunate incident earlier, and I hope you aren't too badly damaged. I will arrange for the very best Persian carpet manufacturer to come and repair the damage as soon as possible." The carpet flattened itself out fully. "Of course, such a fine carpet as yourself deserves the very best."

She sighed with relief as the carpet became stiff in the middle and hovered a good foot above the floor.

"Thank you," she breathed. She grabbed Remus' wand from the desk and gingerly climbed on board the wobbling rug. It rose majestically into the air and she could see the holes that the fire had caused more clearly now. Light shone up through them and she realised the damage was worse than she had first thought. Still, the thing only had to get her down a few feet and she was sure it would hold. They floated towards the window and she flipped the catch. The chilly air flooded in, causing the carpet to quiver slightly. She found she had to duck down to avoid bumping her head and the carpet gently tucked itself up a little to clear the sides of the window. With a quick, sliding movement they were hanging in the cold night with nothing between them and the ground.

"You can just take me down and drop me on the ground," she said in the quietest voice she could manage. "And then if you wouldn't mind returning to my room I'll see about that repair tomorrow."

The carpet dropped so quickly that she had to grip its sides to prevent herself tumbling off, and it jerked so hard when it hit the floor she was thrown to the ground with a bump.

"Thank you," she hissed, feeling slightly less charitable now she had achieved her aim. The carpet rose quickly back to her window and was out of sight in a flash. So far so good, she thought, as she moved silently around the castle and towards the Quidditch pitch. She wasn't allowing herself the time to feel nervous or have doubts about what she was about to do. If she was going fly across the Irish Sea on a broomstick, the less she thought about it the better. She paid no attention to the fact that Voldemort could well be her reception committee, and she didn't even think about the fact that her former guardian would be there. All she could think about was helping Remus and getting one more glimpse of her old home. With that thought, she opened the door to the Quidditch stores, cringing as it creaked.

She knew she had been discovered immediately because there was a light on in the room and two figures huddled in the corner poring over an opened book. They both looked up guiltily when she entered and all three froze. Maeve quickly realised she had the upper hand because they should not have been out after nine, whilst she, on the other hand, was a teacher and had every right to be. They had no idea her mission was just as illicit as their being here.

"Harry, Ron…Good evening, gentlemen," she said smoothly. "Is there a reason for you being out so late?"

Harry hesitated. He had no idea where he stood with her at the moment, not after the way she had treated Hermione. He had a feeling he was included in her intense bad feeling about what had happened and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of her temper again. He was too worried about Remus.

"We've just finished Quidditch practice," he said as Ron shuffled around beside him, stuffing the book back into a bag that sat on the floor.

"Quidditch practice finished a good while ago," she replied, conscious that she couldn't make too much of this. She needed to get them back into school so she could grab her broom.

"We stayed behind to talk tactics," Ron said brightly.

"Really? Well, perhaps you should both get yourselves back into school before someone else catches you."

By 'someone else' they both knew she meant Severus or Filch so they gathered up their things and prepared to leave. Harry was about to walk past her towards the door when he obviously thought better of it.

"What are you doing here at this time of night?" he asked, a mixture of suspicion and interest on his face. Maeve looked uncomfortable then and tried to lie her way out of it, but she was hopeless at lying and Harry knew immediately she had not wanted to clean her broomstick.

"You hate that broomstick," he said. "Are you planning on going somewhere with it?"

"No," she lied again.

Harry watched her for a moment, until Ron pushed him slightly in the back.

"C'mon Harry, let's go before Filch catches us."

"Ron, that's an excellent idea. Off you pop, both of you," Maeve said, edging her way around the room to her broom, which was lying on a bench and poking out beneath someone's spare Quidditch robes.

"You're going after Remus, aren't you?" Harry asked, ignoring his friend, who groaned when Harry mentioned Remus.

"What makes you think that?" Maeve gave a false, high laugh and went a little pale.

"You are, aren't you?" he said triumphantly. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. I bet Snape doesn't know."

"What I am about to do is of no concern to you, Harry. Go back to bed and let someone else tidy up your mess."

"Now hang on a minute," Ron said, jumping in to stick up for his friend. "Whatever Harry did he did because he wanted to help Remus. Whatever happened happened because… well…because…"

"Did you know about their little scheme too?" Maeve asked as Ron fumbled for the right words. "I suppose you did, didn't you?"

"Actually no, I didn't," Ron replied and Maeve sensed an undercurrent of disappointment in his voice. Was a crack appearing in the friendship of this usually inseparable threesome?

"I want to come with you," Harry said, his hand tightening around his Firebolt.

"Impossible," Maeve said shortly and Harry looked triumphant.

"So you are going." He looked pleased with himself and began to pull on his flying gloves.

"If I am going anywhere, you are most certainly not coming with me," she insisted. "Can you imagine the fuss caused when Professor Dumbledore realised you had left the school grounds? Quite apart from anything else, he would have my guts for garters."

"I don't care," Harry said as Ron tried to talk sense into him by pointing out he could be sending himself straight into Voldemort's clutches. "I failed to save Sirius. I'm not going to fail Remus when there is the possibility that I can do something to help. I won't be a hindrance because I can fly a broom better than you can anyway." He said this last part to Maeve and for the first time she felt ashamed of her poor flying skills.

"Harry, just think about it for a moment. What does Voldemort want more than anything?"

"You… at the moment," Harry said. "And you're going, so what's the difference in me going as well?"

"Because if I go, I stand a far better chance of getting in and out of Abbeylara alive. I know my way around in the dark and can conceal myself much better alone than if I had you with me."

"And what if anything happens and you need help. What then?" Harry asked. He didn't know if she had noticed she had let slip where she was going, but he wasn't about to make an issue of the fact. "I caused this. I should help make it right."

"Harry, this isn't a bruised arm that a bit of ointment can cure. The best thing you can do for Remus is keep yourself safe. You know he will forgive you for the potion incident, far quicker than I will at any rate." She felt some sympathy for Harry, and she knew that he was mortified at the pain and harm he had caused Remus, but she couldn't allow him to come with her.

"I'm coming," he said mulishly, and as she faced him she knew she had a choice to make. Either she could abandon Remus, because without Maeve, Harry wouldn't have a clue where to go, or she could lead Harry straight to Voldemort and deliver him up on a plate. As she looked at Harry's strong, determined face and saw Lily's eyes looking back at her, she knew she really had no choice. There was no way she could lead her friend's son to his death. As she realised she wasn't going anywhere, she hoped that Remus would understand. If Remus had been here, she was sure he would have made exactly the same decision.

"Forgive me, Remus," she whispered under her breath as she put down the broom she had only just picked up.

"I could go," Ron said in a low, uncertain voice.

"What?" Harry and Maeve said in unison.

"Without help, Remus will die," Ron said flatly. "Professor O'Malley isn't going to go if you insist on going, Harry, but I could go in your place."

Harry chewed this over, but Maeve wasn't happy.

"This isn't a game to see who can put the best case for coming. Neither of you are coming," she insisted.

"Let Ron go," Harry said. "Voldemort has no interest in Ron, and you will need help. You can't do everything alone, Maeve, and you would be stupid to think of doing this without some help. What if you get into difficulty flying? What if you find Remus but can't get him out alone?"

Maeve thought about this, but every fibre of her being was telling her that taking a student was a huge mistake, even a student that had gone through as much as Ron. It was one thing to risk her own neck, but to risk that of a complete innocent was something else entirely. Once Dumbledore found out about it, she would lose her job and her home not to mention having to face Severus' abject censure. And then, of course, there was Ron himself. His mother had already lost a son and, to all intents, a husband. Could Maeve even contemplate taking another Weasley family member into danger?

"Let me come, Professor O'Malley," Ron said in a very calm voice.

"I don't know..." She wavered, and Harry was quick to sense her indecision. He nodded to Ron, who put his bag down and pulled on his gloves and helmet hurriedly.

"I haven't said yes," Maeve protested, but she knew the battle was lost. As Harry let himself out of the store room, he gave Ron a quick hug and whispered something that she couldn't catch before looking at her.

"Good luck," he said. "And thanks."

He was gone before she could respond, leaving her alone with an expectant Ron and a world of reservations. She gave Ron a hurried plan of action and tried to instil in him how potentially dangerous this could be and how tiring the journey would be. He just nodded in a resigned way and followed her out of the hut into the night. Maeve checked that there was no one around and rose into the air on her broom in a most ungainly manner. Ron managed the movement far more smoothly, and wondered just how far his teacher would get given her substandard skills. As they left the school behind them and rode into the cold and black night, they both harboured their own different thoughts and feelings about what they had undertaken, but on one thing they were agreed.

They could not fail.


	23. Abbeylara

They flew high and fast as the falling night chilled the air around them. Ron flew abreast of Maeve and, finding he didn't have anything to say to her, faced into the darkness. Mercifully the sky was clear and although that meant it would be colder it also meant there would be no rain lashing at them or clouds to confuse their way. He sat comfortably on his broom, all the recent Quidditch training coming in useful for something other than saving Quaffles. His companion didn't look too comfortable though. Ron had been amazed to see she rode her broom sideways instead of sitting astride, something that was so old-fashioned he didn't think anyone knew how to do it any longer.

He still had no idea what had prompted him to offer to accompany her. In normal circumstances he would have taken the option that ensured an easy life and a full stomach. Perhaps it was Bill's death and the ensuing funeral that had made him experience a subtle shift in attitude towards life. The glowing eulogies and effusive praise for his dead brother had made Ron very aware of his own inadequacies. On the other hand, it could have been Harry and Hermione's growing secrecy that prompted him to risk his own life in the pursuit of saving another. Whatever it was, Ron felt surprisingly good about himself, despite the multitude of reservations he had regarding the task he had undertaken. As he gripped his broom firmly he felt for the first time that he had the ability to achieve something significant without Harry snapping at his heels, and he was determined to make the most of it.

Once or twice Maeve glanced in his direction but she didn't speak so Ron happily relaxed and enjoyed the exhilaration as the wind rushed past them. The feeling of freedom and of being very much alive was intense as the black hills rolled beneath them. It wasn't until he had his first glimpse of the glittering, dark sea that Ron had his first real feelings of misgiving. He had no idea how long it would take them to cross this vast expanse of water that separated Scotland from Ireland. To make matters worse he had no idea where his next meal was coming from. He had a few Chocolate Frogs in his pockets, but he had already resolved to use them as emergency rations only.

He could taste the salty tang of the seawater as they cleared the shoreline. They soared above the velvet cliffs that formed the seam between the sea and the land. Maeve dropped slightly so that she skimmed the mirrored surface of the water and Ron followed suit. Had he been making this trip with Harry they would have laughed and joked their way across the Irish Sea but as he looked at Maeve's tense face he wasn't sure she was in the mood for silly jokes.

"How long will it take?" he ventured to ask, once they were clear of the land completely.

"Not long," she replied. Her voice was warm and comforting against the icy, unwelcome feel of the night. "We should sight land within the hour."

"Really?" Ron asked, brightening up considerably. He had expected it to take much longer than that. "And how long before we reach Abbeylara?"

"Another hour, maybe more depending on what we meet on the way." She looked at him with interest. Ron had never been anything other than Harry's friend and chief sidekick. He didn't seem to posses the naked ambition of his brother Percy, the easy confidence of Charlie or the cheeky ingenuity of the twins, Fred and George. He had been so long in Harry's shadow that she felt perhaps his personality had been somewhat eclipsed.

"You do know the risks we are taking," she said gently, competing with the soft swell of the water to make herself heard. The wind was circling them and the chill rising from the sea began to make itself felt through their robes.

"Yes," Ron said. "Being friends with Harry has brought a bit of trouble my way, it hasn't always been easy."

"But you are still firm friends," she observed. "That's quite something given what you have both been through."

"Yeah, well, we'll always be mates. Dunno why." He shrugged and his broom wobbled slightly.

"That's good, Ron," she said. "Friends are important, friends who are prepared to stick with you no matter what happens are more important still."

"Do you have friends?" he asked and if he had not been flying he would have kicked himself. Of course she had friends and one of them was in the clutches of You-Know-Who.

"Yes, I have friends. Probably not as many as you, but I have friends." She smiled as she allowed herself to think briefly of the friends she had, both old and new. "I'd like to think that you and Harry count amongst my friends."

"'Course we do," Ron said. He had always liked her but had never felt the closeness Harry felt with her or the admiration Hermione had for her skills as a witch. He wondered if this escapade would change that.

They passed a few boats and ferries on their journey and they rose swiftly to hide, beneath a cloak of darkness, from the Muggle vessels. The last thing they needed were reports of strange sightings getting back to the Muggle newspapers. There were enough strange happenings in the Muggle world at the moment without their actions adding to the problems.

Maeve had been slightly out with her prediction of an hour. She hadn't taken into account her sloppy riding skills and the fact she was a little bit unfit. It took a lot of strength and balance to ride a broomstick for long periods of time and she had neither in any great measure. It was two hours since they had left the safety of Hogwarts and they finally caught a glimpse of the brooding cliffs of the Antrim coast just before midnight. Maeve knew that the easy part of the trip was over and she must now keep her wits about her in order to get to Abbeylara without being seen be either Muggles or Death-Eaters.

They skirted the coast a little way until Maeve finally decided they needed a brief rest. She waited until the familiar sight of Fair Head came into view. Jutting six hundred feet above sea level, the sharp cliff was instantly recognisable to anyone familiar with this coast and it provided an excellent vantage point from which to survey the surrounding landscape. They dropped gently onto its grassy top and Ron quickly jumped off his broomstick, rubbing his backside to try and restore some feeling.

"Why do you think I ride sideways?" Maeve said with a small laugh. "It's a lot less painful for the poor posterior, even with a Cushioning Charm."

Ron managed a grin before looking out across the sea. Had it been daylight he would have been able to see the distant Scottish mainland, but in the darkness all he could see was the hand in front of his face and the grass at his feet. Moonlight gave an outline to their surroundings but Ron knew he wasn't going to stray too far from the spot he was standing on; somewhere out there was a sheer drop into the sea and he didn't feel like accidentally finding it.

"We'll take a ten minute break and then crack on," she said. "Abbeylara is a little further up the coast but it shouldn't take us too long now."

"Have you thought about what we will do when we get there?" Ron asked.

"Not really," she admitted. Her plan had always been to just get there in one piece and then see how things worked out. She could just imagine Severus' disapproving face at this careless course of action and she dreaded to think what he would do in the morning when he found out what she had done. "I think I know where Remus is though, so at least that's a start."

"How are we going to get him away without bumping into You-Know-Who?" Ron said fearfully. "It can't be that big a place."

"It's fairly large, or at least the grounds are. You'd need to be Finn McCool to cover it all. If I'm right and Remus is in the woods then it is quite possible we will just be able to get in and out without anyone knowing we have been there." She tried to look convincing for Ron's sake but she knew it wouldn't be that simple, nothing ever was.

"And what? We just fly in and fly out again with Remus," Ron asked.

"That's the general idea."

They stood in silence for a few minutes and Ron had to fight the temptation to dig out one of his Chocolate Frogs. His stomach rumbled slightly and he wished he had taken second helpings at dinner. Maeve stiffened as she sensed something in the wind; it was a feeling rather than something physical, something was disturbing the air around them. It was the same effect she had experienced in her room earlier and once again light formed before her eyes and began to take shape.

Remus was lying on the ground now, curled up in a foetal position as if warding off the cold. The most important thing for Maeve was that he was still in the same place; the cold grey stones of the dolmen were behind him and the bare trees surrounded him. Her heart swooped and fell as the image disappeared again. Ron was transfixed by her sudden stillness and although he couldn't see what she had seen he could feel the electricity in the air and was aware something had changed.

"We have to go," she said with determination. "It's getting cold and if he is in the woods at night he's not safe. It isn't just Death-Eaters that patrol those grounds after dark. An injured wizard would make a good meal for something prowling in the night."

"Okay," Ron said with a disgusted look on his face at the image she had just conjured up for him. He didn't ask her what she had seen; it was enough for him to know that it was imperative they move on. Once again though she tensed and this time it was because she had seen something rather more earthly than her recent vision.

"Get down," she said, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down flat on the cold and prickly grass.

"Ow!" he yelled as he caught his arm on a gorse bush and Maeve had to hush him. "What are we doing?" he hissed at her under his breath.

"There is someone flying in our direction," she whispered. "Keep quiet and we might be lucky. They may not have seen us."

But the stranger had seen them and was flying directly at Fairhead with the obvious intention of landing. Maeve's hand travelled to her wand and she was about to pull it out of her robes when she recognised the dull colour of the swirling robes that surrounded the new arrival. She couldn't believe it at first but as the figure drew closer and she could make out some of his features she stood up, certain that this was not an enemy.

"What are you doing?" Ron squeaked. "Have you gone mad?"

"It's all right," she said, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. "I know who that is."

"Well, Roderick," she said as she strode across the uneven ground to meet the Auror. "You caught me."

He landed with a gentle thud and quickly stepped off his broomstick, laying it next to hers on the ground. He gave her a look that suggested he could have throttled her and when he spoke it was with frustration.

"I told you not to do anything silly," he said crossly. "One of the last things I said to you was don't do anything silly, so perhaps you could explain why you are standing on top of a cliff on the Irish coast with…who is that anyway?" he asked, craning his neck to get a better view of Ron who was still trying to make himself invisible. "Oh for Merlin's sake!"

If Roderick had looked irritated before now he just looked angry.

"That's a student, isn't it?" he asked incredulously.

"Ron Weasley," said Ron, feeling a little emboldened now he had recognised the man from school.

"I can't believe you could be so thoughtless as to bring a student along with you on this madcap mission," he said through gritted teeth.

"You sound just like Severus," she replied defiantly. "Ron wanted to come… he and Harry left me no choice."

"Please tell me you haven't got Harry Potter with you as well." Roderick looked panicked for a moment as he glanced round, half expecting Harry's tousled head to appear out of the darkness.

"No, of course not. Do you think I am that stupid?" she snapped. "That's why Ron is here."

"I don't want to know," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I have had to fly like the wind to catch up with you and I am exhausted. Now, what we do is turn around and fly home because there is no way I can allow you to go on with this jolly jaunt."

"You can't make me turn around, Roderick," she said. "I'm not going back now. It will take me an hour to get to Abbeylara and I know exactly where Remus is."

"Oh, tell me you haven't been having visions again…Maeve, you have no idea if they are real or not."

"Visions?" Ron said, looking at Maeve with renewed interest. "Proper visions."

"I do know they are real," she insisted. "We know that Remus was taken from outside that pub by a female Death-Eater and that's exactly what I saw."

"Wow," Ron said, impressed.

Roderick, however, was not impressed. "You saw Remus being captured. Perhaps it was some vague sixth sense. It still doesn't mean we should be standing on a cliff top in the dead of a February night chasing after wild geese."

She watched his firm face and for the first time saw him as something other than a mildly amusing, upper class party animal. When they had had the conversation over lunch the other day and he had intimated he would not like active duty she had thought he was doing the job of an Auror for the glory. But now, as he stared down at her full of concern and common sense she couldn't help think she had misjudged him slightly. Not that her change of opinion would sway her from her current course.

"Take Ron back," she said, as if by offering up Ron she would clear the way for herself.

"No," he insisted. "We will all be going back."

"No, we won't." She was adamant that she would be continuing towards her former home and the back and forth bickering could have gone on for some time had not fate intervened in the form of a Harpy.

The filthy creature rose up from beneath the cliff and beat furious wings in the black air as she dived towards the trio. Ron seemed to attract her attention first, perhaps because it sensed his immaturity and therefore would be the easiest to pick off. His eyes grew wide with fear as the powerful claws reached for him and he flung himself to one side as Roderick withdrew his wand and ran towards their reeking attacker.

"NO!" Maeve yelled as she drew her own wand. "It's a Harpy. Anything you use will rebound."

Roderick paused mid-spell as the creature turned beady, sunken eyes on to him, its earlier prey forgotten as it caught sight of the wand. It cackled, clawing at the air around Roderick, causing him to duck beneath the onslaught of the metal talons that were attached to the end of its withered and shrunken legs.

"What can I use?" he asked, gasping with pain as one of the claws connected with the back of his head.

"We need an instrument," Maeve shouted back and the Harpy turned to look at her, perhaps sensing an opponent worthy of its attention. "A brass one," she added quickly.

"Any particular one?" Roderick asked, tumbling to the ground and almost hitting Ron in the process.

"No…anything…can you play one?" Maeve asked as she moved behind a gorse bush to try and deflect the sudden, unwelcome attention of the dark, airborne mass.

"Of course not!" Roderick shouted back, as if the suggestion he could play any musical instrument was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

"Neither can I," she shouted back desperately and with glaring understatement added, "This is starting to look bad."

The Harpy shrieked and whirled above the three of them. It understood now that they were defenceless and so it could afford to enjoy choosing which one it would take back with it to the land of the dead.

"I can," Ron said quietly into Roderick's ear. "I learned to play the trumpet at home. I wasn't very good but I can play a tune."

Roderick looked at the boy with newfound respect and with a flick of his wrist he produced a shining, yellow trumpet from the ether. Ron grabbed it hurriedly, but not before the Harpy had seen the glint of the brass. It only had one option now or it would go back to its dark home empty handed. It streaked towards Ron who stood up and attempted to place the instrument to his lips. It extended its wings fully and began to back Ron rapidly towards the cliff edge.

"Play it, Ron!" Maeve shouted, rushing towards him with her wand still in her hand. "Anything…just make a note."

He raised it to his lips and his courage faltered as the face of the Harpy came within a foot of his own. The smell was truly wretched and he felt bile rise in his throat as the bitter scent of death and decay filtered through his nasal membranes. He fought valiantly against the urge to be sick and, pressing dry lips to the mouthpiece, he drew breath and stepped back into nothingness. He paused for a moment in shock as he realised he was standing on thin air rather than solid ground. The Harpy gave a shrill laugh of triumph and prepared to grasp her victim when, from behind it, Maeve pointed her wand at Ron.

"_Wingardium Leviosa,_" she called and Ron's descent was stopped before it had properly begun. It took a great deal of strength to keep him floating and even more to bring back towards her and the safety of the land. The Harpy still stood in the way and showed no signs of moving.

"Play the trumpet," Roderick urged from his position on the ground, and this time Ron licked his lips and found his second wind.

The sweet, unsteady sound of "Rule Britannia" floated out across the night and the Harpy ceased to beat its wings in anger and began to scream loudly. The sound made Roderick cover his ears but Maeve continued to hold Ron aloft while he played on and as the Harpy rose into the air with a sickening wail it brushed Ron's robes. For a moment the sound ceased as a chill ran through the young man's body and the effect was broken briefly. The Harpy regrouped and Roderick urged Ron to continue with the song. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the Harpy rose into the blackness and with one final screech of horror vanished into the night in search of easier prey.

Ron fell limply to the ground and the trumpet rolled away onto the grass where it rested for a moment before vanishing into the air, as the Harpy had done before it. Maeve dropped to her knees, exhausted from keeping the spell going for so long and it was Roderick who walked across to her to check she was all right.

"I'm fine," she said, gulping the air greedily now that the Harpy was no longer poisoning it with her stench. "Make sure Ron is okay."

Ron was already struggling to his feet with a look of disgust on his face.

"I stink!" he moaned and as he moved there could be no mistaking the smell of the Harpy lingering on his clothes.

"She touched you," Maeve said. "You'll smell for days, I'm afraid. Whatever they touch they turn foul."

"Oh, well, that's just bloody brilliant," Ron said indignantly. "I save you both from a hideous monster and all I get for my pains is the smell from hell."

Roderick helped Maeve to her feet as she looked at Ron with gratitude.

"That's exactly what it is," she said. "The Harpies live in the Land of the Dead… Hell… Hades or whatever you want to call it. They are filled with the despair and the destitution of the unwilling dead and they come to collect more victims, victims who are not ready to die. They carry them away into shadow and what torments they inflict upon them can only be guessed at."

She glanced out at the night sky as if seeing countless other demons out there.

"We have to move. It is too exposed here and we need to get inland."

"We need to go home," Roderick said, but she shook her head.

"Ron and I are going inland and we are going to find Remus. You can do what you want."

"Maeve, please listen to reason. Professor Dumbledore sent me to bring you back and I must obey his wishes."

"Dumbledore knows?" Maeve asked in a quiet voice.

"Of course Dumbledore knows. And by now half the Ministry probably knows. Which makes your trip all the more dangerous because of the work of spies." He put on his best persuasive face but Maeve merely picked up her broomstick and mounted it.

"Ron, go back with Roderick. It is too dangerous for you now but I have to go on." She floated into the air and turned her broom towards the land that sat huddled behind them.

"Fat chance!" Ron said, grabbing his broom quickly and rising to join her. "This could get interesting."

Roderick watched them for a few moments before cursing himself, Maeve, and the gods who had conspired to put him in this situation.

"I am in no way condoning what you are about to do but I feel duty bound to accompany you. If only for your own safety and to protect you from yourselves," he said in a pompous manner that was more reminiscent of Percy Weasley than the Auror she thought she knew.

"Excellent," Maeve said, as he joined them in the air. With a flick of her broom's tail she rose high into the sky and the others followed her lead.

They flew unhindered for a good hour and passed over slumbering mountains, deep-set valleys, mysterious glens and beaches carved up by inlets of water. Ron half wished the circumstances were different and he could enjoy this magnificent ride in daylight, with the sun on his back and a good meal waiting for him at some comfortable destination. As it was he found himself torn between shivering in the cold and suppressing the urge to vomit because of the smell from his robes. He had suggested getting rid of them but Maeve had immediately stopped him taking them off, telling him sternly that being sick was far preferable to suffering from hypothermia.

As they crossed the mouth of a huge river she slowed down slightly and addressed Roderick.

"Abbeylara is just over that swathe of trees," she said, pointing to a large, dark belt of forest in the distance. "There is a road that cuts between the forest and on the far side is the beginning of the estate. We will need to land before we reach the road or we may be spotted from the house. Once on the ground there will be little chance of discovery unless they have extensive ground patrols."

"Which they may well have," Roderick said darkly.

"I know the land well. It is not difficult to evade detection," she insisted.

"I wish I shared your conviction," Roderick replied. He glanced at the shivering Ron and was beginning to suspect the boy had caught a cold, which would be inconvenient to say the least.

They dropped down through the quiet landscape and finally landed on the roadside with nervous glances around them to ensure any Muggles, out on late night wanderings, wouldn't see them. Maeve insisted that this was a rare event and they had little to fear from prying Muggle eyes but Roderick's Auror training was uppermost in his mind and if they were seen by a Muggle it would be a failing on his part. Crossing the empty carriageway they made it safely into the woods on the other side. It was warmer beneath the empty branches of the towering trees and Ron's shivering gradually subsided as they moved silently along the perimeter of the forest.

Maeve was beginning to feel frightened of what she might discover in the clearing they were heading for. It was not fear for herself, but a fear for the fate of the man who she would always look upon as a brother. She had closed her mind to doubts up until this moment but now they picked their way through the cracks in her consciousness and began to worry her. Roderick was moving quietly at her side and Ron brought up the rear, unaware of her sudden crisis of confidence. The undergrowth crackled beneath their feet no matter how softly they tried to place their feet down and although Maeve knew they were a good distance from the house Roderick did not and he grimaced each time a twig snapped. Only the faintest glimmer of moonlight penetrated through the dense branches above them and they were walking blind towards their destination. Roderick and Ron both had serious doubts that they were heading the right way and they trudged along beside Maeve with doubt clouding their already impaired vision.

"How far is it?" Ron asked in an undertone. His feet were already beginning to throb from walking on such rough terrain and he could feel a stone working its way down the back of his left shoe.

"A few minutes," she breathed back. She didn't speak again and her heart began to ache once more as she saw the first signs that the trees were beginning to thin out. Roderick drew his wand and Ron bravely did the same but Maeve was not even thinking about having to defend herself. All she was thinking about was the scene which could be waiting for her and throughout this trip she had refused to accept that Remus might be dead but now she was about to face the truth she wavered.

Ron bumped into her as she stopped dead and he cursed mildly as the stone in his shoe finally ground into his flesh.

"What is it?" Roderick asked, his sense instantly alert for any danger she may have perceived.

"I don't think I can face it," she said softly, as bats swooped through the air, criss-crossing in front of them on paper-thin wings with sharp ears alert for prey.

"Now is not the time to have doubts," Roderick said evenly. "You have brought us here and if you turn around now I may possibly have to kill you."

She knew he was joking but all the same she couldn't help wondering if death would be preferable to what she was about to find out. She glanced at Ron's shadowy face and he grinned his encouragement. For all his apparent gormlessness she was beginning to see him in a new light after the incident with the Harpy.

"We have to find out," he said quietly. "It's what we came for and I can't go back and tell Harry we failed."

The mention of Harry restored her resolve; he wouldn't have hesitated because knowing would have been far preferable to not knowing. She turned into the clearing and the huge grey dolmen rose up in front of her like a hibernating monster waiting to be woken from its sleep. Moving past the cold stone she held her breath as she beheld the crumpled figure on the floor at its base. Swooping down she touched the icy skin of Remus Lupin and her fingers urgently probed at his neck to try and find a sign of life.

The sob escaped before she had the chance to check it and Roderick immediately fell to her side, placing a comforting hand around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Maeve," he said quietly as Ron looked away, unable to bear more scenes of grieving.

"No," she said, looking at Roderick with shining eyes. "He's not dead, there's a pulse."

Roderick immediately reached down and moved her fingers, holding his own in their place and counting the slow but steady beats of the sleeping wizard.

"Well I never," he said, allowing his breath to escape in a long, low whistle. "We need to get him out of here now. If we go back the way we came we should make it." Hope galvanised them into action.

"I need to bring him round. He's freezing," Maeve said, her overriding wish now was to hear Remus' soft voice telling her everything was going to be fine.

"No, let him be. That way he won't be groaning all over the place. He's clearly injured and sick." Roderick looked at the tear in Remus's robes, which crossed his heart like a ragged scar. "I can carry him free of the forest and then he can ride on my broom… somehow."

He hauled Remus up and Ron immediately went to support one side of his former teacher while Roderick supported the other as they began to move away from the clearing. They did their best to clear their tracks and Maeve pulled some branches across the flattened grass where Remus had been lying. She took the lead again, carrying their brooms and trying to walk slowly so they could keep up with her. She kept glancing back at the trio behind her and the lolling of Remus' head seemed to her one of the saddest sights she had ever seen.

As they began their difficult journey back to the edge of the forest something moved in the clearing behind them and a flare of light could be seen in the gloom. They froze as voices could be heard coming clearly from the area they had just vacated.

"Get into the trees," Roderick said to her in a whisper, handing Remus' slumped figure entirely to Ron, who buckled slightly under the weight before regaining his momentum. "Lie low for a bit until you feel it is safe and then wake him up, get on your brooms and fly out of here. Don't try to do it undercover, just go."

"But…what are you…" she began, but he put his finger to his lips.

"Just trust me. I will deal with this, but if you don't do exactly as I say you will not get out of here alive."

He didn't give her the opportunity to answer as he made his way hurriedly back the way they had come, cursing loudly in a cheerful voice.

"Damn, bloody branches!" she heard him exclaim as he reached the source of the light. "The things a fellow has to do to get into these places… Bella, my darling, how nice to see you here. What have I done to deserve such a reception committee?"

She didn't hear any more as she helped Ron to get Remus hidden as quietly as they could. The ground was freezing as they crouched low and she felt her heart would burst through her chest with anxiety. Ron was pale-faced in the darkness. He knew exactly who Bella was and he had no wish to meet her again. As the forest froze around them the light from the clearing dimmed and the mumble of voices grew fainter. Ron's terrified eyes locked with hers above Remus' still body and he clearly expected her to do something.

"What…" he started to say but she shook her head vigorously and gestured for him to be quiet.

Throughout all this she had thought she could manage alone and had brought the other two with her only under duress. How utterly, utterly stupid she had been. Mentally cursing herself over and over she tried to take stock of their situation and she knew she had to make a move soon. She was too fazed to really think about the implications of Roderick knowing the woman in the clearing or of his blithely walking away towards the house and its inhabitants. What was of foremost importance now was getting Remus and Ron to safety and after her earlier performances she wasn't sure it could be managed.

They sat in silence for a further ten minutes until Maeve was reasonably sure that they were no more Death-Eaters lurking in the bushes.

"I need to wake Remus but he may be groggy so we will need to help him to his feet," she said to Ron who stood up immediately. "We need to get out as quickly as possible so be ready to fly."

"How are we going to get clear of the trees?" he asked as he peered doubtfully up towards the web of branches between them and the sky.

"We'll have to go back to the clearing," she said after thinking about it for a moment. Anything else would have risked the use of too much magic and she didn't want to draw attention to them until they were airborne and flying away from the place.

"But what if there is someone still there?" Ron asked fearfully.

"There won't be or Roderick would have come back."

"Do you trust him?"

"I have no choice," she said as she withdrew her wand and pointed it at the unconscious Remus.

_"Salvolatile,"_ she whispered to him and watched as, slowly, the reviving charm began to work.

His eyelids fluttered slightly and a low groan escaped his mouth as he returned to consciousness. In the darkness Maeve couldn't make out his expression but she could hear the pain in his voice as he spoke.

"What's happening?" he asked groggily.

"It's Maeve," she said, bending close to him so she could keep her voice as low as possible. "We are in the forest at Abbeylara and we have to leave now. We are in great danger, Remus."

"What happened?" he said, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "What are you doing here?" he began to struggle to sit up and Maeve helped him as best she could.

"It's a long story and we don't have time for it now. Ron's here too," she said, moving slightly so he could see the worried face loitering in the background.

"Ron Weasley?" he asked, and the shock of discovering a student in such a peculiar place seemed to rally him even further.

"Don't ask," Ron said in the most cheerful voice he could manage. "But it's been an unusual night."

Remus clutched at his head, sudden spasms of pain crossing his temples.

"Can you manage a broom?" Maeve asked, resisting the urge to take him in her arms and cry.

"I think so," he said as the pain faded. "I'm a bit cold though. It's bloody freezing."

"I know," she said, an almost hysterical laugh bubbling in her throat. Slipping her cloak from her shoulders she hurriedly wrapped it around him and although he protested she insisted he keep it on. She helped him to his feet and explained the need for silence and their mode of escape. Maeve hoped he was taking it in because he still seemed a little vacant, but he grabbed Roderick's broom and followed her towards the clearing with only a slight stagger in his gait.

The area was now empty and there was no sign that anyone had ever been there. They assembled in the middle and prepared to leave. Ron, in an attempt to be the first in the air, staggered against the stones and dropped his broom. Maeve shushed him and told him to be more careful so Ron carefully bent down to pick up the broom. As he did so his hand closed around something small and square and without thinking he slipped the unknown object into his pocket for later examination. Once they were ready, with Remus firmly placed in the middle where he could be kept an eye on him, they gritted their teeth and rose rapidly into the sky. Maeve didn't even look behind her as she headed away from the estate. If there was something snapping at their heels they would deal with it when, and if, it caught them.

After ten minutes of rapid flying Ron finally dared look around and he was relieved to see an empty night sky with nothing but the occasional owl fluttering into view.

"There's nothing there," he said, his voice dripping with relief.

Maeve looked back then and allowed herself a grim smile as she too saw a clear sky. She wouldn't dare to believe it until they were well clear of Abbeylara and she couldn't relax until they were safe within the walls of Hogwarts again. She glanced at Remus and had to admit she was worried. He was doggedly gripping the unfamiliar broom but his flying was erratic and he dipped occasionally. She started to face up to the fact they might not make it back across the sea tonight and if this were the case she had to find them shelter while Remus regained a little of his strength.

"Can you hold on a bit longer?" she asked him, flying so close to his broom that they were almost touching.

"Yes," he said and the sudden break in concentration caused him to rock dangerously. She let go of her broom with one hand to steady him and he raised a small smile for her. His eyes looked dead and his skin looked awful in the unkind moonlight. Her robes clung to his thin shoulders and she prayed he would make it just a little bit further.

The miles passed more slowly than any of them would have liked and it was only when they reached the mountains near the coast that she slowed their pace down and began to survey the hills for a likely shelter. She finally found it on the upper slopes of one of the larger mountains that dotted this part of the country. They swept down the mountainside and landed a little way from the grey cottage, Maeve made them hide in the bushes as she cautiously approached the building. A quick look around confirmed her suspicions that this was a holiday home and was, for the moment, uninhabited. A small wooden sign on the gate announced this as Carrowdore Cottage, and had circumstances been different Maeve might have stopped to admire it. As it was, she quickly performed a Muggle repelling charm on the exterior and went to fetch Ron and Remus.

Unlocking the front door using the Alomohora charm, she pushed it open and they stepped gratefully into the shelter of the hallway. Ron closed the door behind him and immediately went to forage around in the kitchen for any food that might be lying around. Remus dropped the broom by the door and staggered into the lounge, collapsing on the sofa with Maeve's robes clutched to him in an attempt to get warm. She pointed her wand at the fire and in moments flames were flickering up as the turf caught fire. She wondered if this fire could be connected to the Floo network, it would certainly mean getting to safety would be made a lot easier. Although on second thoughts she wasn't so sure. The Irish Floo network was notoriously unreliable and haphazard with poorly maintained grates and numerous misdirections. Perhaps getting home under their own steam would be the best option after all.

Ron came back in clutching a few tins of beans and a tin opener.

"Can we eat now?" he asked eagerly.

"No, we need to sleep. We can eat those in the morning when we will need their energy the most," she said. "Isn't there anything else?"

Ron shook his head and reached into his pocket for a Chocolate Frog, as he pulled it out the small object he had picked up in the clearing fell to the ground and Maeve spotted it immediately.

"Where did you get that?" she asked as he picked it up.

"It's Drooble's Best," Ron said in a pleased voice. "You don't see that much… I found it in the forest just before we left, it was on the floor."

"Why is this gum following me around?" she asked, taking it from him and putting it in the pocket of her robes.

"What?" Ron asked.

"It doesn't matter. Why don't you run upstairs and grab some blankets and we can all sleep in this room," she suggested and Ron sprinted off to get the items, chewing on a Chocolate Frog as he went.

Ron took the sole armchair and, snuggling down beneath a thick quilt, he was asleep in no time. Maeve chose to sit on the floor by the sofa, close to Remus' head. She wrapped herself in one of the blankets after tucking several more blankets round Remus' body. He seemed to be warming up as the heat from the fire penetrated his coverings.

As the flames danced before her she tried to resist the sleep that would surely come, she wanted to stay awake and keep watch. But within the half hour she had nodded off, her head resting on the sofa by Remus' hand. She needn't have worried about discovery, nestled as they were in the remote cottage, because no one would have thought to look for them there. As it was, thanks to the quick thinking and family connections of Roderick Rampton, no one this side of the Irish Sea even knew they were in the country.

And so they slept well, unaware of their distressed friends and loved ones back home and unworried about the final leg of their journey in the morning.


	24. An Auror of Mystery

Maeve was woken by the sound of birdsong, and she opened tired eyes to the morning light. Quickly checking her surroundings she smiled with relief to see Remus sleeping peacefully on the sofa with some colour back in his sallow cheeks. Ron was snoring gently with his arms and legs flung in an ungainly manner over the sides of the chair he occupied.

Moving silently to the fire she swept out the embers from the previous night, replacing them with fresh turf. This reminded her of visits to the local village when she was a child as the warm smell of turf and baking wafted across her memory. Setting light to it with the matches she had found in the kitchen, Maeve left the fire to catch hold and wandered into the kitchen. It was empty of anything apart from the tins of beans that Ron had pulled out of the cupboard the night before. This wouldn't be enough to fuel their stomachs for the trip back to Hogwarts so she opened up the ancient cellar in an effort to discover some more food. Ron had been very thorough the night before; the only extras she dug up were a tin of rice pudding and a packet of stale biscuits.

Pulling back the curtain a little Maeve looked out onto the fine morning. The mountainside fell sharply away at the end of the small front garden, making it seem as if the house teetered on a knife-edge. Across the valley another mountain rose from the landscape. This one was heavily wooded with a triangle cut out of the heavy green landscape where the forestry workers had been wielding their chainsaws. Only one other building dotted the landscape, a small white farmhouse clinging to the other mountainside. It felt as if they were completely isolated, a fact Maeve was extremely pleased about. An early morning mist shrouded the summit of that other mountain. She crossed to the back window and looked out at their own mountain. Sure enough there was a matching cap of grey there too.

She was feeling very hungry; a nice plate of toast would have gone down a treat. Coffee would also have helped but the cupboards had revealed no beverages whatsoever. Using magic unnecessarily might be dangerous. Maeve didn't want to risk them being detected for the sake of a morning coffee. A sound behind her made her turn. Ron stood in the doorway with his hair sticking out in all directions, a hungry look on his face.

"Good morning, Ron," she said.

"Is it?" Ron asked grumpily. "You don't stink of death."

"You didn't sleep in your robes?"

"I was cold. What else was I supposed to do?"

Something told her Ron was not a morning person.

"I found some rice pudding," she said, holding out the tin.

"Great, beans and rice pudding for breakfast." Ron was definitely on the wrong side of tetchy. "Can't we just magic up something?"

"No, Ron. I don't want you using any magic unless your life depends on it. You never know who might be around."

"That," Ron said with his first smile of the day, "is paranoid behaviour. You want to watch it."

"Go and have a wash," she suggested. "At least the water is still on and the heating works, so it'll be hot."

Ron stumbled off up the wooden stairs, his limbs still stiff from a night spent on the chair. Maeve walked back through to the lounge, grinning as she heard the water begin to splash and Ron burst into tuneless song.

Remus was still asleep but it seemed a lighter one now. His head moved about on the cushion as his lips mouthed words that were not meant to be uttered. The temptation was strong to wake him so she gently touched his shoulder, crouching by his head. His dry lips parted as he spoke her name.

"Maeve?"

"Yes?" she replied.

His eyes were sticky with sleep and opened slowly; when they did they were still brimming with tiredness. It would take more than a few hours on a sofa to wipe away what Remus had been through in the past few days.

"Where are we?" he asked, struggling to sit up.

"We stopped at a holiday cottage last night," she reminded him. "You were exhausted. I didn't want to risk the flight across the sea."

"I don't remember," he said, looking appalled that he had a huge gap in his memory. "The last thing I remember is…"

He hesitated. Maeve placed a comforting hand on his lap, unsurprised that his mind had brushed away the past day.

"I turned into a full werewolf," he said. "How did that happen? I felt the changes start, knew they were serious, but I had taken my Wolfsbane. Voldemort had me in this huge house –– your huge house. He said you would come and get me. It was his way of getting his hands on you."

"And it would have worked," she smiled. "I came, didn't I? Despite people telling me not to I still came. And I know why your Wolfsbane didn't work."

"Oh?"

"Hermione Granger and Harry Potter." Maeve watched for his reaction and sure enough it was a disbelieving one. "That potion of my grandmother's that you and Professor Dumbledore were so keen for me to make up. I was extremely reluctant to make it alone. Harry overheard me talking about it and decided it would be a great idea for him and Hermione to come to the rescue."

"She tripped," Remus said, recalling the incident in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. "Hermione tripped when she brought me the potion."

"I know." Maeve nodded. "I'm afraid I gave her a bit of a hard time over that. I got the whole story from Harry. Once he realised you had lost your robes he understood they were to blame and he came to tell me. Remus, I could have killed them both when I knew what they had done. How could they be so stupid?"

Remus regarded her with a kind, understanding look. He reached across to touch her hair in a very familiar way, twisting it gently in his fingers.

"They weren't the only ones being stupid, were they? You did something incredibly stupid coming here to find me. You risked your own life, a life that is far more important than mine."

"Don't say that!" She pulled away from him. "What a horrible thing to say."

"It's true, Maeve, whether you want it to be or not. You should not have risked your life for mine." He was on the point of asking her to promise him that she would not to do anything like it again but he realised it would be futile. "There was someone else last night."

"You really don't remember?" she queried. He had appeared to be fully awake last night, if a little tired, so this memory lapse was worrying. Maeve wondered if it was a consequence of the potion Hermione had made.

"No, I really don't." He rubbed his face with his hands in an attempt to wake himself up. "I don't even remember how I managed to get away from Voldemort. Presumably he had me thrown out of the house when I changed."

"I think he did more than that," Maeve said, fingering the slash in his robes. "I'd say he hit you with a very powerful curse."

Remus glanced down at the hole and he frowned. He followed her fingers, touching the frayed edges of the fabric in amazement. Their fingers met and she quickly pulled hers away, feeling slightly strange about this close contact.

"I don't remember that either," Remus said, not noticing her sudden withdrawal. "What happened in that house?"

"Did you see anyone else while you were there?" The question she really wanted to ask concerned Voldemort and his appearance but she was afraid it might upset him too much. Harry had given her only the vaguest description but she wanted something more. It was a macabre fascination, she knew that, but she remembered Lord Voldemort from the time before he had been vanquished. She couldn't help wondering how much he had changed.

"Oh yes, Maeve. There certainly was someone else there. The woman who managed to capture me."

"I saw her," Maeve blurted out. "I saw her capture you. I saw her bring you here."

"I knew," he said with a nod. "I knew I had seen your face. I thought I was dreaming or hallucinating. That's quite a power you have."

"It wasn't me," she said. "I thought it was you. Dumbledore said it was a connection made when two people have become very close but even so, I thought you were the one making the connection."

"Maybe someone else was making it for us," he smiled.

"Perhaps. So who was the woman?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Bellatrix Black. Don't tell Harry about her. She was the one who sent Sirius through the veil." When Remus said this Maeve realised exactly whom Roderick had been talking to back in the forest at Abbeylara. Roderick's Bella was the woman who had cornered Remus and carried him away to his potential death.

"Don't tell Harry about who?" Ron asked as he wandered back in to the room. He looked more awake now after his wash and his hair was under control once more.

"Ron?" Remus asked incredulously. "Oh, Maeve, you didn't."

"No, she didn't," Ron said, coming to her defence. "It was Harry's fault really. He was all set on coming with her but Maeve said if he insisted then she wouldn't come at all. Harry didn't want to risk that so I came instead. I'm a compromise."

"That was madness," Remus said. "Sheer bloody madness. How on earth did you manage to get in and out of that place without getting seen?"

"That was Roderick," Ron informed him.

"Roderick? Who on earth is Roderick?" he asked, his confusion growing.

"Roderick is an Auror. He followed us when we left school. I think he probably saved our lives." Ron jumped in before Maeve had the chance to explain any of this properly.

"So where is he now?" Remus asked. He looked to Maeve for the answer this time.

"Abbeylara," she said, not really wanting to think about Roderick or his fate. "He managed to create a diversion while we got you away."

"How did he manage to do that? I can't imagine it's easy luring Voldemort to one side."

"He seemed to know Bellatrix," she said and even before the words were out of her mouth she knew they could be damning of the Auror she had once trusted.

"Did he now?" Remus said slowly. "Did he really?"

"Bellatrix?" Ron had finally cottoned on to the person he wasn't supposed to be telling Harry about. "Roderick knows Bellatrix? Bloody Hell! Is he a spy for us then?"

"I don't know," Maeve answered truthfully. On the face of it that had to be the best explanation but he hadn't come across as spy material. "Remus?" She looked towards the only person she could think of with access to that kind of information.

"Hang on!" he exclaimed as he finally put the name to a face. "Are we talking about that chap on the train? Roderick Rampton?"

"That's him," Maeve admitted. "He wasn't just a party planner."

"You're telling me," Remus said with a frown. "I've never heard of the man. Certainly not heard of an Auror by that name anyway."

"Well, Dumbledore has. He employed him to watch over me at the school. That's how he knew I had come out here to find you. Oh, that reminds me." She reached into her robes and pulled out his wand. He beamed with delight when she handed it to him, examining it for a moment before sliding it into his robes.

"Voldemort said he was going to send it to you. I'm sorry you had to experience that."

"Well at least he didn't send me a finger or toe to go with it," she laughed.

"Don't laugh, that's exactly what he was going to go if I hadn't turned into the werewolf. I thought it was a bit of a dramatic gesture myself. Beneath that evil beats the heart of an actor; he should be on the stage."

They laughed at the greatest evil the wizarding world had ever known, leaving Ron looking at them as if they had gone mental.

"Shouldn't we be eating about now?" Ron asked as his stomach reminded him it was empty.

"It's beans and rice pudding," Maeve said, with a note of apology in her voice.

"Sounds great to me," Remus said. Now that food had been mentioned he realised he was completely famished. "And then we really need to think about getting back."

It was probably the most unusual breakfast Maeve had ever eaten. She took the smallest portion of their meagre rations and watched with satisfaction as the other two wolfed their food down. When they had finished the beans, rice pudding and stale biscuits Ron shared out his last few Chocolate Frogs, which were accepted gratefully. Maeve carefully cleaned the cooking utensils, placing them back in the cupboard where she had found them. Ron was amazed at this, suggesting that they just leave them. He received a lecture from her then on what was the right thing to do in certain situations.

"The people that own this cottage deserve consideration from their guests, even their non-paying ones. The least we can do is tidy up after ourselves. Now get into that lounge and tidy away all those blankets. I want it left exactly as we found it."

Ron trundled off, grumbling to himself about slave labour. At least the work kept his mind from thinking too much about the return journey they were about to make. This time it would be daylight so the Harpies would be sleeping in whatever dark hole they inhabited but he would have been willing to bet there were plenty of other things to take their fear-inducing place.

Remus was recovering more and more by the minute as his strength returned. He could feel the effects of recent events leaving his body along with the potion that Hermione had made. There would be plenty of time for discussing the strange effects that the potion had had on him but for now they had to concentrate on getting home.

It was past nine o'clock when they had finally finished clearing the house up. Both Remus and Maeve had followed Ron's lead in freshening up. Maeve had looked longingly at the bath, anticipating the time when she could have a relaxing soak in hot, foamy water.

Now that Remus was feeling better Maeve naturally deferred to him as far as decision-making was concerned. He had far more experience of this than she had. If she was honest with herself the journey out had been something of a disaster. It was only Roderick turning up that had secured the success of the expedition.

"We are going to have to fly very high," Remus said, as they hovered by the doorway. "We will each have a Disillusionment Charm on us, which should conceal our presence. As it's daylight it's more risky to fly."

Maeve and Ron nodded as he placed the charm on each of them in turn. They both felt the strange, seeping sensation of the concealment as it dripped over their heads. Maeve returned the favour for Remus, watching as he became one with his surroundings.

"Time to go," he said brightly. "Ron, you will go in the middle and we stay very close together. It shouldn't take us long – it's easier to see in the day so we should make good progress." They both nodded their agreement, watching with anticipation as Remus threw open the door to allow the day in. Maeve felt much more confident about this trip than the one they had made the day before. For a start she had the comforting presence of Remus beside her, the man she had thought could be dead only twelve hours ago.

They sprang lightly into the air, Remus wobbling only slightly on the unfamiliar broom. As they rose into the morning mist only a few sheep raised curious heads; the rest of the Muggle world was oblivious to their presence. Maeve was in two minds about the journey. On the one hand she wanted to get back to Hogwarts and its safe walls, where she knew Severus would be waiting with harsh words for her. On the other there had been a comforting charm about the place that had given them shelter and she was sorry to see it slip between her fingers. One day, if they survived all of this, she would buy just such a home. The grandness of Abbeylara was no longer for her. She wanted something smaller with a more honest feel to it.

They managed to stay hidden by both the Charm and the clouds for most of the way. Only occasionally did they dip below them to catch a glimpse of the sparkling sea beneath them. Remus smiled at Maeve's continued discomfort while riding. It made him happy to see her riding his great-great-grandmother's old broom. She even rode it sideways, as the long dead witch would have done. He couldn't help a quiet I-told-you-so about her extra flying practice. She grinned, threatening to punch him if he ever mentioned it again.

"Punch away, dear girl," he laughed. "But it beats being driven anywhere by you in a car."

"As I understand it, I'm not the only one with a penchant for wild driving," Maeve said, smiling at Ron, who blushed. "Whatever happened to that Ford Anglia, Ron? Harry told me all about your little adventure."

"Dunno," he muttered. "I think it ran away."

"I'm not surprised!" Remus said. "You drove it into the Whomping Willow."

"Yeah, well…" Ron said, wishing they would go back to chatting about the weather.

"Poor Ron," Maeve said, feeling sympathy for the embarrassed boy. "But you do have talents in other areas. Trumpet playing for one."

"What's this?" Remus asked. Maeve let Ron tell the story. It was, after all, his moment of glory.

They reached the coast of Scotland just before ten. Remus was pleased they had managed to get this far without incident but Maeve was beginning to worry about the kind of reception they would receive when they arrived. She wasn't sure she would even have a job. Taking a student into the lair of Voldemort was hardly a good career move. The mountains rose to greet them as they left the sea behind. With solid ground beneath them the trio dropped lower until they could almost feel the brush of the rugged mountaintops. As Hogwarts grew closer Ron also began to feel Maeve's unease.

"What if Mum has found out?" he asked. The thought that Molly Weasley would be there waiting for him was too horrible for Ron to contemplate. "It won't matter to her that we made it in one piece. She'll bloody well go on about this for ever."

"You might be surprised, Ron." Remus said gently. "I think if she is there she will be more interested in giving Maeve a hard time for taking you."

Maeve gulped as the list of people waiting to tear a strip off her grew. Professor Dumbledore would no doubt head up the list, closely followed by Severus and now there was the possibility that Molly would be there too. She only hoped the sight of a living Remus would help temper their reaction.

"Perhaps I shouldn't come with you?" she said in a small voice.

"What?" Remus tuned to look at her. All he saw was the almost invisible line where her shape joined with that of its surroundings but nevertheless he knew she was there.

"I don't think I can face it."

"Don't be silly," he replied. "Are you seriously suggesting that they will be so angry they won't be pleased you made it back in one piece."

"Dumbledore is going to be so livid… I really don't think I can bear his disappointment. Not to mention Hermione. I was horrible to both of them before I left and Hermione will just see this as an opportunity to gloat," Maeve said.

"Hermione's not like that!" Ron immediately leapt to his friend's defence. "She'll understand your reasons for going."

"Perhaps I should have been a bit more understanding of her reason for making the potion in the first place." She grimaced to herself as she recalled the scene in Professor Snape's classroom.

"Let's not worry about that now." Remus tried to pour oil on Maeve's troubled waters.

"Yeah, and me and Harry are always getting into really big trouble. We haven't been expelled yet," Ron said cheerfully.

"You lost your job though," Maeve said to Remus unhappily.

"I resigned," he replied. "There is a huge difference. Surely you don't think you will get the sack?"

"It's a possibility, don't you think?" Maeve looked sad.

"No, I don't think," he insisted. "I think anyone would be mad to let you go. Especially given the dearth of good Defence of the Dark Arts teachers."

Maeve wasn't sure that last bit was especially encouraging but she didn't really have time to process a reply because the shimmering towers of Hogwarts peaked into view between the sweep of the purple mountains.

There was no reception committee waiting for them as they dropped down onto the lawn behind Madam Pomfrey's herb garden. Once the Disillusionment Charms were removed they stood on the grass looking uncertain. It was Remus who finally broke the silence.

"We need to go straight to Dumbledore's office," he said firmly. Despite Maeve's look of dismay he insisted that it was the only course of action open to them. She merely wanted to go to her rooms and hide. Ron began to tramp towards the school building. He was relieved not to have spotted his mother just yet; there was still the possibility she was safely tucked away in London. Remus put his hand around Maeve's shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.

"It will be all right, Maeve," he said firmly. "Dumbledore isn't going to be angry with you."

"Maybe not, but there are plenty of others that will be." She didn't need to mention Severus' name. Remus just hoped the Potions master was well occupied with a few classes down in his dungeon.

They reached a side entrance and Ron pushed open the door, which creaked loudly. They managed to slip in unnoticed and made their way up to Dumbledore's office.

"Isn't it a bit worrying that we have just managed to land and walk into the school without being challenged?" Maeve asked. "If we can do it why can't anyone else?"

"It's old magic that Dumbledore uses," Remus replied. "It will recognise those with evil intent and repel them. Only those with a good reason for being here can get through the multitude of charms set up to protect the school."

"All the same I would have thought there would have been some sort of guard on the place," she muttered as they finally reached the statue.

"Any idea what the password is?" Remus asked.

"Blackberry wine," Maeve said, but nothing happened. "Must have changed it," she added.

"Don't look at me," Ron said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He hoped if he would just be able to go to his common room and get his head down for a nice long sleep.

"Hmm, I wonder?" Remus mused thoughtfully. But before he could think too deeply the doors slid open of their own free will.

"I think someone knows we are here." Remus grinned as he allowed Ron and Maeve to step on the staircase first.

Maeve had been up these stairs many times but never before had she felt so nervous about it. Ron didn't seem particularly bothered now that he thought his mother wasn't here. If she had been Ron was sure she would already have found him. Remus tapped on the door because Maeve stood there with her hands by her sides, putting off the inevitable.

Percy Weasley, who gave them a look that indicated he wasn't that pleased to see them, opened the door.

"Hello, Percy," Remus said confidently. Percy was about to correct the use of his first name when Ron marched past him, giving him such a disgusted look that Percy immediately closed his mouth again.

Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk flanked by Molly Weasley and Harry. Molly had a face like thunder. She was holding back a mixture of emotions that threatened to explode all over Ron at any moment. Harry leapt from his chair and rushed to hug Maeve but just as he reached her he stopped, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Maeve recognised his intention and reached out to bridge the gap, taking him in her arms and squeezing him gently. She was relieved that one person, at least, was pleased to see her and wasn't about to pass up the opportunity of the comforting gesture. She let Harry go after a few moments and he turned to Ron, clapping him on the back. Harry was relieved and more than a little covetous of Ron's exploits.

Remus approached Dumbledore, who silently rose from his seat. The other occupants of the room watched as Dumbledore moved to Remus' side of the desk. He gently opened his arms and enveloped Remus in a fatherly hug. Maeve watched as the old wizard closed his eyes; relief was etched in every line of his weathered face. He patted Remus on the back before releasing him.

"It's good to have you back, Remus," he said in a low voice. "I can't tell you how good it is. You had us all worried."

"I'm sorry about that, Albus. But things have turned out well all things considered." Remus stepped softly away from Dumbledore

"Yes, it was more than we could have expected," Dumbledore said wearily.

Maeve hovered in the background. She was aware that Molly was glaring at her fiercely from her seat with anger ready to be unleashed. For Maeve the temptation to put Ron between her and his explosive mother was great.

"And Maeve." Dumbledore was satisfied that Remus was in one piece so he turned his attention to his rebellious Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said in a sad, little voice, which was quite unlike her usual one.

"Sorry?" Dumbledore said.

"I'm sorry that I did something so stupid and so thoughtless. I could have had us all killed, including Ron. That would have been completely unforgivable of me. I'll understand if you want me to resign my position. It will be very difficult for me to continue now given what I have done."

Remus was shaking his head at her in an attempt to stop her babbling but she was full of contrition, intent on laying herself at Dumbledore's feet as if she were some sacrificial lamb.

"I risked the life of a student. I ignored your instructions. I have possibly caused the death of an Auror…"

Dumbledore smiled gently at her, placing a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Please, Maeve. There is no need for this," he said quietly. "You acted with the best of intentions. No one has been harmed. You are all back safely. So please don't upset yourself unnecessarily."

"What?" she asked sharply. She couldn't believe she would be let off so lightly. After preparing herself for the worst, and the possibility that she would be leaving Hogwarts, the relief she felt was palpable. "But what I did was…"

"Rash?" Dumbledore suggested. "Foolhardy? Brave? It was all of these things and more. But you had the courage and the strength of mind to succeed, Maeve. For that Remus is indebted to you."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It wasn't me, I just knew the way. We were attacked and Ron saved us, without him we would have been killed. But it was Roderick who ensured we got out safely…"

"Ahh, yes. Roderick." Dumbledore smiled.

"He managed to waylay Bellatrix Black. Without him we would have been caught and no doubt we would all be dead. I don't know what happened to him, Professor. He made us leave without him."

There was a chuckle from the armchair that was half hidden beside a huge bookcase.

Maeve turned her head slowly to try and find the source of the voice. Her quota of shocks for the day was not yet exhausted as a burgundy-cloaked figure rose from the seat, turning his head to smile at her.

"Roderick?" she gasped in disbelief. "But how did you manage to escape? How did you beat us home?"

"I have my methods," he said mysteriously. "Suffice it to say Apparition is considerably quicker than a broomstick in a tight spot. I didn't have the boy to worry about so it was nothing to just pop across the sea in a matter of seconds. Of course only being able to get as far as Hogsmeade was a bit of a pain in the posterior but the beautiful Madam Rosmerta obliged with the use of a spare broom for the last leg of the journey." He grinned at her but she could see the faintest tightness around his eyes, which gave away the strain he had been under.

"Speaking of the boy…" Molly Weasley could keep quiet no longer. "How could you?" she said the words with venom and Maeve turned to her, ready to apologise. She was surprised therefore, to find Molly ignoring her and speaking directly to an embarrassed Ron.

"Oh, Mum, don't," her son said with a scowl. "I'm knackered. I just want a good meal and a lie down."

"A good meal!" Molly shrieked. "That's all you ever think about, Ronald. There are worse things in life than an empty stomach, like death, for instance. It's not enough that I've lost one son, is it? Do you want me to die of a broken heart, Ronald, do you?"

"Of course not, Mum," he said wearily. "But if I hadn't gone then Maeve wouldn't have gone and Remus would still be with You-Know-Who."

Maeve was about to speak as Molly turned to her with a frown. She seemed on the point of saying something but Dumbledore gave a very faint cough, causing Molly to close her mouth for a moment. When she reopened it she had a tight smile playing about her features.

"Yes, well. I'm not saying you shouldn't have known better," Molly said quickly. "But I'm sure Ron was only to happy to go along with the plan He's always been a thoughtless lump.

Maeve was about to speak again but Ron stepped in.

"Look, Mum. I'm really, really sorry but I'm here now, safe and sound."

"Well, it won't do, Ron. I don't think I can stand much more of this," she said with exhaustion. "Come and give me a hug."

Ron allowed himself to be hugged before Molly insisted she take him down to the kitchens to get the house-elves to rustle something up for him. Harry wanted to get all the details and he knew he would get more from Ron than he would from Maeve so he made his excuses, following them quickly out of the office. Maeve watched as Percy did his best not to watch their exit but he couldn't help his eyes flickering in his mother's direction. Just how was he managing to keep so distant, she thought to herself, and how had Molly been so cool about being in the same room as him?

"Sit down, all of you," Dumbledore said and they all pulled chairs up to huddle around his desk. "We need to talk about what happened to you, Remus. I see someone has hit you with a very strong curse." Dumbledore nodded towards the front of Remus' robes.

"Yes," Remus said. "It's a bit of a mystery that. I can't remember very much prior to waking up this morning."

"Well then, it is fortunate that we have someone who has been made privy to the details of what exactly occurred at Abbeylara," Dumbledore informed him. Maeve raised an eyebrow and looked directly at Roderick, who grinned back at her.

"Hang on," she said. "Just how do you know Bellatrix Black and why were you able to get in and out of Abbeylara without coming to any harm?"

"Can't tell you, I'm afraid," he said, with an even wider grin. "But let's just say old family connections come in useful sometimes."

Both Maeve and Remus looked at Dumbledore but he shrugged. "That's Roderick's decision. I won't break a confidence."

Maeve sat back and sighed. "Well, go on then, tell us what you know. Unless you can't enlighten us on that either." She was a little annoyed that he was being suddenly coy with her.

"It would appear that our Mr Lupin managed to cheat death at the hands of Voldemort," he began. "But as to how he did it, Bellatrix could not say. Apparently he was managing to shrug off the Cruciatus Curse quite well before the sudden and unexpected transformation into a werewolf. Apparently Voldemort wasn't too bothered about this and used the Killing Curse on you." Roderick nodded to Remus, whose hand automatically sought out the hole in his robes. "That did work, or at least it seems to have worked on the werewolf." It was the first time Maeve had seen Roderick look truly impressed.

"How could it have killed the werewolf and not Remus?" Maeve asked, curious.

"Who knows?" Roderick winked at her and she made a moue of annoyance. "I'd say it was enough to know that it didn't kill your friend here, wouldn't you?"

But Maeve's enquiring mind, released from the threat of imminent dismissal, was not happy with letting it go at that. She thought of Severus and wondered what he would make of this. Thinking about Severus brought her back to earth with a jolt. Professor Dumbledore and Molly Weasley were one thing, but Severus was an entirely different kettle of fish.

"It must have been the potion," Remus said. "What else could it have been?"

"I agree," Maeve said eagerly. Her mind was tripping over all sorts of possibilities and it kept stumbling back to the potion that Hermione had made. "Perhaps more work could be done to find out why it allowed you to survive while the werewolf perished. Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth as she thought of another possible outcome of the events at Abbeylara.

"What is it?" Remus asked. "What's the matter?"

"If the werewolf has been killed…" She almost didn't dare voice the rest of her idea; it was too wonderful to contemplate.

"Yes?" Remus prompted.

Roderick looked at him as if he were stupid. "Hello?" he said sarcastically. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Roderick!" Maeve found his tone objectionable. "I would imagine Remus doesn't even dare consider the possibility."

"You think the werewolf will be permanently dead, don't you?" Remus said flatly. "Well, I doubt it."

Remus wasn't going to give any thought to a 'cure'. His parents had almost killed themselves with grief trying find a cure for him so he certainly wasn't going to waste any effort chasing rainbows as far as his condition was concerned.

"I think we will have to wait and see," Dumbledore said quietly. He too had felt the same flicker of hope that Maeve had but he fully understood Remus' reluctance to even consider the possibility.

"Well, I think the rest of this discussion can wait until you two have cleaned yourselves up," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat. "Perhaps you would like to make use of the room beside Maeve's, Remus."

"Thank you, Albus." Remus stood up as Percy opened the door for him. Roderick also stood up and made to leave.

"We'll catch up later, sweetie," he said to Maeve as he whirled from the room. Maeve couldn't resist pulling a face behind his retreating back. She made to accompany them but Dumbledore called her back.

"Please stay, Maeve. Just for a moment," he said softly, before dismissing Percy.

When they were alone he turned to her with his twinkling eyes. Maeve was sure now that his earlier attitude was just for the benefit of the assembled company and that now she was going to be told off. She should have known Albus Dumbledore better than that though.

"I am glad to see you safe home," he said. "It hurt me a great deal to know that you had risked your life, against my wishes, for such an uncertain cause. However I have to admire your courage and your loyalty to Remus. I wish there was someone who loved me enough to risk their life for my own."

"Oh, I am sure there are plenty of people who would willingly do that, Professor."

"No," he shook his head. "I don't think so. Not many people would do what you did with the same amount of love in your heart."

She smiled uncomfortably beneath his piercing gaze.

"Perhaps you could now extend the same amount of understanding that I have shown you to Hermione Granger. She has been in a very bad way since you left, partly because she knew she was the cause of this and partly because you had Ron with you."

Maeve had the grace to look ashamed of her treatment of Hermione. She knew that she would have to call in on the girl and make her peace with plenty of sincere apologies.

"I will go and see her," she promised. "As soon as I have changed out of these robes and had something to eat I will find Hermione and apologise to her. I think I was a little emotional yesterday." She couldn't believe it had only been yesterday– it seemed like years.

As she stood up she could see Dumbledore's eyes move towards the door. Maeve knew why even before the door was thrown open. She didn't realise it, but as Severus stepped into the room she stopped breathing. She stood stock still waiting for the confrontation that must surely come. He moved towards her slowly, a hard look on his face. His eyes were expressionless as he brought his face level with hers and she thought he was going to open his mouth to speak but he didn't say a word. Still she didn't breathe, aware that a spell was being cast but not one that had ever been written in any textbook. His face was so close to her now that their lips were almost touching and she could feel his icy breath on her face.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," he snarled, through gritted teeth. "EVER!"

Maeve turned pale under his frosty gaze. Her breath released itself in a long, slow gasp as she felt her arms grasped roughly. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his jet-black ones because she found the closer she looked, the deeper she could see into him. It felt like she was tumbling down into a place from which she would never return as Severus finally made contact with her lips and kissed her. She found herself returning the cold kiss as his hands continued to grip her arms. Severus held on to her as if the slightest loosening of his grip would allow her once again to go chasing after her own death.

After a few moments Albus Dumbledore rose quietly from his desk and walked towards the door. Casting one last look at the two figures he felt satisfaction that finally their two souls had been able to make a tentative contact.

"At last," he whispered, closing the door gently behind him as he left them in their own world.


	25. Alice

Maeve's escapade had been kept quiet from the rest of the school so she was able to resume her classes without any questions being asked. In fact she was the one with issues as she ploughed her way through the mundane tasks of the day. She couldn't tear her mind away from Severus Snape's remarkable behaviour. She could still feel the burn of his lips on hers and a hot flush crept over her whenever she thought of the rare flare of passion she had seen in his eyes. He had almost crushed her with the weight of his care, swamping her in what could be if only he would let it happen. When he let her go it had been to berate her for putting herself in danger but his anger had been dulled by the love he finally allowed himself to touch her with.

While she spent the day with him uppermost in her mind other things were happening around her. Ron found himself basking in Harry's undisguised admiration, for once. Now that the danger had passed Ron was rather enjoying re-telling the tale to Harry and Hermione. He had even recovered from the ear bashing his mother had given him when she realised that the awful smell that surrounded him was coming from his robes. Hermione had been furious with both him and Harry, although she had reserved her real indignant fury for Maeve. She expressed her feeling of injustice quite vociferously to both of them during the day. Hermione was disgusted that Maeve had showed her up so publicly for doing something foolhardy only to go and do exactly the same kind of thing.

"Yeah, well," Ron said. "You were the cause of Remus being captured in the first place."

Hermione had ignored this, choosing to believe that she and her teacher were now even in terms of doing incredibly stupid things. She had still been fuming about it as she stomped out of Arithmancy, which was the last lesson of the day. An evening of homework stretched ahead of her and she couldn't wait to get dinner out of the way so that she could get stuck in. The last person Hermione had expected to see was Professor O'Malley and yet, as she made her way to the Great Hall, there she was. They looked at each other warily for a few moments, Hermione stopped in her stride by the tired-looking, older woman.

"I'm sorry." Maeve spoke first. Her face was a picture of repentance as she stepped closer to Hermione. "It was very wrong of me to do what I did, especially in front of the class. Although I was extremely angry and upset it doesn't excuse what I did."

Hermione's earlier bluster disappeared in the face of such a sincere apology. She knew that Ron had been right when he said she had caused the events of the previous couple of days. She had foolishly allowed herself to be cajoled into something that she knew was wrong. She had lied and deceived people and almost caused Remus' death. If Hermione was brutally honest with herself she knew it was her own superiority that had caused this, proving the old adage that pride does indeed come before a fall.

"There's no need to apologise," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "I was really, really stupid. I can't honestly believe I did it now I look back."

"Yes, it was ill-conceived," Maeve began, much to Hermione's dismay as she thought she was in for another lecture. "But only as ill-conceived as doing what I did. I am sure Ron has filled you in on all the gory details."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, he told us everything. I think he may have embellished his own part though. Who'd believe that Ron could play the trumpet?" Both of them began to relax in each other's company and Hermione found herself smiling as she remembered Ron's proud boast about his musical ability.

"Oh, he can," Maeve grinned. "Not very well, admittedly. But it was enough to save our lives."

Hermione looked stupefied. She had playfully suggested that Ron was exaggerating when he had come to that bit but here was the proof that he had been telling the truth.

"Sometimes, Hermione, people surprise us," Maeve said, stepping aside to allow some third years up the stairs. "Ron surprised me by even volunteering to go. I think he felt a bit left out, especially when he realised that you and Harry had been conspiring over the potion. He has a real soft spot for both of you and he's feeling a bit adrift at the moment."

Hermione remembered Ron's attempts to ask her something about London before the half-term break. Of course, she realised with a sinking feeling, he had been trying to ask her out.

"You don't think…" Hermione hesitated. She had been about to ask Maeve about Ron but realised it wasn't an appropriate discussion to be having with a teacher. Maeve, however, could read her quite well and smiled.

"Yes," she said. "That's exactly what I do think. Perhaps you could ask him to go for a walk. I am sure he's got lots to talk to you about."

Hermione went bright pink, gripping her bag tightly to her in embarrassment. Maeve gently changed the subject.

"What's S.P.A.M.M.?" she asked, noticing the two badges on Hermione's robes.

Fifteen minutes later Maeve found herself two galleons lighter, considerably better educated about house-elves, and the new secretary of S.P.E.W. She had no idea how it had happened. Hermione was an altogether trickier prospect than she had first assumed.

Maeve returned to her rooms and flopped wearily on to the sofa. She couldn't face the hustle and bustle of the Great Hall so she had asked for her dinner to be sent up. Slipping her robes off her shoulders Maeve couldn't help smiling as she unclipped the S.P.E.W badge. Ron had warned her many months ago about Hermione's fervent defence of house-elves but she had forgotten all about it. She tried to read a book but her restlessness and hunger prevented her from concentrating so she gave it up as a bad idea. An hour later there was a knock at the door that promised something more interesting than her own company. Remus struggled in carrying a tray containing her dinner and placed it down on the coffee table. She sat up almost half-heartedly and picked up the tray as he joined her on the sofa.

"You'll get indigestion eating like that," he said. Maeve had curled up on the comfortable cushions with her legs beneath her and the tray of food balanced precariously on her knees. She pulled a face at him as she tucked in.

"You sound like my grandmother," she said.

"Thanks!" He sat down next to her with a sigh. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" she asked, her fork paused in mid air. She had no idea what he was talking about.

"About why you did what you did?"

She shook her head, still uncomprehending.

"You risked your life for me. No-one has ever done that before."

"Well, they have now," she said cheerfully. Remus was looking at her with a curious look in his eyes as he tried to find the right words to express the sudden shift in his feelings for her. The sibling relationship had been fine while she looked like his sister but he couldn't deny the growing appeal she held for him. It had started at Christmas and he had found himself unable to check the growing momentum of his attraction to her.

"It's an amazingly unselfish thing to do. I just wondered if there was something else behind it?" he asked, his face still uncertain.

"I don't know what you…Oh! Right." she nodded. Remus' heart fluttered a little as she smiled into his eyes. "You mean was I put under pressure to go…" Remus' heart steadied itself only to be sent soaring again by her next few words. "No, I came because I love you."

Remus smiled one of the biggest smiles he had ever managed to produce and had she not being wearing a tea tray would have taken her into his arms there and then. Could it possibly be true that finally, finally, he had found someone who could reciprocate his feelings? Remus had never declared his love for anyone before and he had felt so vulnerable harbouring this feeling he now had for her.

"I know, I love you too," he replied, his words ringing with honesty.

"Of course, Severus didn't approve," Maeve continued, between bites of chicken. "But it did finally make him be a little more tactile." She grinned at Remus and it was his turn not to get her meaning. "Of course, he doesn't understand the love of siblings. He never had one himself so he doesn't get it. I think, to be honest, he's a little bit jealous of our relationship."

This was all going badly wrong. They shouldn't be talking about the Potions master. He had thought after the events of Christmas and their continual fighting that she had given up any notion about resuming her relationship with Severus. Remus cleared his throat to speak but Maeve hadn't quite finished. Oblivious to his true intent she pressed on with the details about Severus and his sudden unveiling of passion the previous evening.

"And it was only when the door clicked shut that I remembered Dumbledore was in the room," she finished, with an embarrassed giggle.

"Oh," Remus said weakly. The rose-petal blush that kissed her cheeks just made her all the more striking and it wrenched at his heart.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked. He had gone a little pale, which emphasised how tired he looked.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," he said. "I'm pleased for you. Severus really doesn't deserve you."

"I know," Maeve said, laughing. "But he deserves something better than he has at the moment, which is nothing."

"I have to go," Remus said, unable to bear the hurt any longer. She looked up at him innocently with a concerned expression.

"Are you sure you're all right?" She placed the tray on the table and reached across to touch his arm.

"Yes, really." He withdrew from her; the touch was like a hot poker.

"Oh." Now it was her turn to look hurt. "Okay then, I'll see you to the door."

"No need," he said, standing up and turning away from her. Maeve watched him go, wincing as he stumbled against the bookcase. Something wasn't right there and she had no idea what it was. She was no longer interested in finishing off her dinner and left the tray on the table.

A few minutes later there was another knock on the door. She rushed to answer it, thinking that Remus had come back to explain his strange behaviour, but it wasn't he. Instead Professor Dumbledore stood there holding a cardboard box that was so large it almost hid his upper body.

"May I come in?" he asked from behind his huge burden.

"Yes, please do" she said as she guided through the door. He placed the box on her desk, almost displacing all of her things in the process. "Dare I ask?" she said with a smile.

"You dare indeed," he said. "I want you to have a look through these things. They belonged to Alice Longbottom."

Maeve looked taken aback but allowed him to continue without interruption.

"Severus mentioned something about a possible, previous attempt to cultivate Carduus Amara. We searched the archives at the Ministry to see if we could find any reference to such a project. We almost drew a complete blank until we came across the contents of a broom cupboard." He smiled at the capricious nature of fate. "In there we found this box of parchments along with other bits and pieces that Alice collected."

He sat down at her desk so she followed suit and sat opposite him, craning her neck to see his face above the box.

"One of the Order members had a quick look through it and discovered this." He handed her a piece of parchment, which she took and read.

It contained Alice's wide scrawl, which swooped and looped across the page excitedly. From what Maeve could make out this was a list of the properties of Carduus Amara. She glanced up at Dumbledore, who smiled at her.

"I am mindful of the connection you have with Alice through your father," he said.

"My father went to great pains to point out that it wasn't a connection in the mortal sense of the word."

"I know, my dear," he said. "But there is a connection and I wanted to make sure that you would be happy to go through her papers."

"Yes, that's no problem," she nodded. "Have you spoken to Neville's grandmother about this?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "That's the other proposal I wanted to put to you. When you have gone through all of this" – he waved a hand at the box – "would you be willing to speak with her about anything Alice may have said about her work."

"You think that's likely?" Maeve asked. "Surely she wouldn't have discussed secret Order business with her mother-in-law?"

"I highly doubt it but it is entirely possible she may had indicated she was going somewhere or talking to someone that may have some bearing on this current problem. It is worth a try if we can discover something that would be of use to us, wouldn't you agree?"

Maeve nodded as Dumbledore stood to leave. His robes swished gently through the air as he opened the door.

"I don't need to tell you to be as thorough as you possibly can. There are lives depending on this."

Again she nodded, wondering if she would get a pay increase to match the added responsibility that seemed to be shifting on to her shoulders. The door closed and she placed a Silencing Charm on it. If anyone else wanted her attention tonight they would not get it. She was tired, emotional and just wanted to sleep. Dumbledore hadn't given her a time limit so she decided the box could wait until tomorrow. Her bed was far more enticing than the dusty papers contained within the cardboard. She spent a good hour reading the mindless drivel in The Daily Prophet just to wind down and then she took a glass of Firewhiskey to bed with her. She sat, propped up by pillows, going over events in her head. In half an hour she had completely undone the good work of The Prophet and was wide-awake again. This was no good. Without extra sleep she would still be disengaged from her students tomorrow and fit for nothing but staring vacantly into space. She blew out the candles and forced herself to lie down, closing her eyes with the firm intention of going to sleep.

The problem with that plan, however, was that as she lay in bed with the night closing in around her she found she was thinking more of the box than she was about sleep. Maeve tossed and turned for half an hour in her rough blankets before she gave in to the curiosity that the beige container had aroused in her. Padding back out to her office she lifted her cloak from its peg and threw it around her shoulders to ward off the nocturnal chill.

She lifted the box from the desk where Dumbledore had left it, feeling the roughness of the cardboard against her smooth fingers as it almost slipped from her grasp. Maeve sat cross-legged on the floor beneath the window as she reached in to pick up the first item. It was a photograph. She held it tentatively between gentle fingers, watching as three faces peered up at her in confusion. Frank had a protective arm flung around Alice's shoulders as she clutched the squirming toddler in her arms. Neville's moon-shaped face gurgled at her, a sliver of yellow goo erupting from his left nostril. Alice frowned as she quickly wiped it away with a tissue before once again gazing suspiciously out of the picture. Maeve wondered how many photographs existed of Lily and Harry in just the same circumstances. Could it be possible that any of them had ever been happy? For the first time she found herself being thankful for her unmarried, childless status. She had no one to worry about but herself.

As she placed the photograph to one side she realised that wasn't strictly true. She worried constantly about Harry and, despite her father's protestations, she continued to think of herself as his aunt. Not that she would ever allow Harry to think that. He mustn't find out about their connection. Remus was another worry, as evidenced by the events of the last few days. And then there was Severus. If things had been different maybe she would have been married and had children. She let out a long, slow breath as she allowed this thought to reverberate through her head for a little while. Children? The idea was laughable really. How did anyone deal with young babies? And yet an image came to her mind, unbidden. A cottage clinging solidly to the side of a remote Irish mountain and a garden. A child playing with rocks and twigs by a frothing stream. A black-robed man opening the gate with a small smile of contentment and an armful of parchments. She could almost smell the aroma of cooking that spilled out as the door opened and she joined the inviting tableau. She blinked away the image and to her amazement found herself also blinking away the beginnings of tears.

To distract herself she took out another photograph. This was Alice's official Ministry photograph. Neville's mother sat stiff-backed in a chair as she faced the camera with a defiant expression. Wisps of dull brown hair fell around her shoulders, yet her sparkling eyes contrasted with the lifelessness of her hair. Maeve really couldn't remember that much about her from their schooldays. She had been too wrapped up with Lily and Severus to notice many other people. She let the photograph fall softly to the floor along with the other one.

There were several hard-backed notebooks in the box, the dull green colour of Ministry-issue stationery. She flicked through them briefly but on the face of it they seemed full of meaningless information that had nothing to do with what she was searching for. Rolls of parchment contained dates, times and names. Some she recognised as Order members, there was an occasional mention of James Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Most of it seemed innocuous though, details of events long past and with no relevance upon current events. The piece of parchment that Dumbledore had given her was still on her desk, separate from the other material, and she went to get it. The handwriting was very distinct, matching the writing in the notebooks and most of the parchments but there was one that was clearly different to the others.

The small, mismatched item was a piece of headed notepaper, cream with deep, wine-coloured text. It had fluttered from a large book entitled Secrets of the Ancients: A Guide for the Modern Witch. Maeve had been surprised to see that Alice had read such fluffy, re-packaged nonsense as this. Its author, Rafaela Haran, had been a well-known self-promoter even back in the late seventies. She had based her work on supposition and invention but it had been lapped up by most of the wizarding world. Maeve had dropped the book to the floor in disgust and turned her attention to the stylish writing at the top of the piece of paper.

_Rampton,  
Rampton Court  
Sussex._

Dear Madam,

I fear I am unable to accommodate your request to come and visit my humble dwelling on the instance of the first of April. I will be away with my son in Klosters, taking in the last of the skiing season. Rest assured that I will make every attempt to play host to you and your delightful family at a later date.

Yours, etc.

Rampton.

(Freddy)

Maeve turned over the paper, as if expecting more information on the reverse, but there was nothing. The letter wasn't even dated. How on earth did Alice Longbottom come to be on such close terms with Lord Rampton, Freddy no less? She would ask Roderick in the morning. He must be aware of the connection… but then why hadn't Dumbledore known? She placed the note carefully alongside the information Alice had written about Carduus Amara and delved into the box once again. There were several copies of Witch Weekly, an old Gringott's savings book in Neville's name with the grand total of 11 galleons in it, a long-dead house-plant that was so crinkled and withered Maeve couldn't recognise it, a folded up poster of the Why Fronts who Maeve only vaguely remembered as being the musicians that taste forgot, and a diary for the year 1981. As she picked the diary up she noticed something flutter out of it and fall between her legs. She retrieved the papery objects and was unsurprised to be holding two carefully folded Drooble's wrappers. She thought immediately of Neville and the strange gifts his mother kept giving him.

Maeve shuddered uncomfortably. As she had been sorting through the detritus of Alice's life she had been thinking of her as a dead person when, in fact, she was very much alive. How many more people would end up enduring a living death at St Mungo's before Voldemort and his cronies could be stopped? She picked up the diary and the notebooks, curling up on one of the sofas to read them in greater detail. Late night shifted to early morning and still she scoured them, looking for the slightest reference that could help her understand what Alice's role in all of this had been. Maybe she should attempt to get Severus to try and remember more details of the vague plan he had heard. It would be uncomfortable for him but not nearly as uncomfortable as allowing Voldemort to succeed with his repulsive schemes. As she allowed her mind to drift towards Severus she felt her eyelids droop against the candlelight. Her fingers loosened their hold on the diary and it slipped to the floor with a gentle thump, but she was already asleep and didn't hear it or the soft noise the door made as it opened, pushing against the stillness of the air.

Severus paced the room with slow, deliberate movements and his robes snapped around his legs. Normally being in the comfortable surroundings of the dungeon office would have soothed his mind and given him some peace, but not tonight. He had thought of nothing but Maeve O'Malley for most of the day. She was so prevalent in his thoughts that it was beginning to irritate him. For the first time in many years he was undecided on what course of action to take because for the first time he felt weakness. What was it about this woman that brought out the worst in him? Why could he not maintain his emotional detachment whenever the damned creature was close to him? He threw back his second glass of Firewhiskey and immediately regretted it. Severus liked a drink as much as any man but he had not been intoxicated for many years. Drinking was another weakness that showed an appalling lack of self-control and he had learned his lesson as a youth. Alcohol made even the most secure tongue flap dangerously, loosening normally closed mouths to the point of self-destruction.

He folded his robes around him as he sank into the chair by the fire. Bloody woman – he fumed to himself – frustrating, irresistible, preposterous, bloody woman. It was almost worth considering leaving his post just to push away the need to make a decision. But of course he couldn't even do that. It was necessary for him to remain at Hogwarts, to serve whatever masters ruled the day. The status quo was far preferable to the risky business of upping sticks and returning to the outside world, where it was less safe. But then neither was it safe here with Maeve around, threatening his resolve at every turn. It was altogether too disturbing to keep seeing her burning eyes tearing into his soul and feel the soft yield of her mouth as he had bitten down on it.

He failed in his resolve and reached for the Firewhiskey once again, knowing as he did so that it wasn't a good idea. He poured the amber liquid into the spotless glass, allowing it to splash against the sides wildly. Severus was very surprised when he heard the door open and he turned, about to berate the ill-mannered trespasser.

Remus Lupin stood there, staggering against the weight of the wooden door. His eyes looked strangely unfocused as he walked unsteadily into the room. Snape was naturally disinclined to help him but he knew that he had an obligation to both Maeve and Dumbledore to do so. Reluctantly he crossed the room and held out a hand to steady the stricken man. As he drew level with his face he could smell the sharp tang of alcohol and Severus knew that whatever ailed Lupin it wasn't the potion that the Granger girl had inflicted upon him.

"You're drunk," he said with disgust as the other man focused on him. "What are you doing wandering around the school in that condition?"

"I'm not drunk," Remus insisted, although he knew that he had had rather too much wine to be fully sober.

"Then why do you reek of wine? And what do you want with me?" Snape sneered.

"I need to tell you something important," Remus said as he slumped into a chair. "Something about Maeve."

Severus didn't want to discuss anything with Remus Lupin, least of all the one thing that had been bothering him the most.

"Not interested, Lupin," he said dismissively. "Why don't you go to your room and sleep it off? Not quite so impressive without your dead friends around you, are you? Not that you ever were impressive," he added as an afterthought.

If Remus was hurt by the allusion to James and Sirius he didn't show it. He looked at Snape with bitter sorrow and tried to clear his head of the effects of the wine.

"You will never hold her if you continue to think like that, Severus," he said. His voice contained only the slightest slurring now as the chill of the dungeon fought the befuddlement in his brain.

"And why would I want to hold her at all? The woman is a liability." Severus knew he didn't entirely believe that any longer but he couldn't let his old enemy know this.

"When I wake every morning," Remus began, "it is with the dull ache of wanting the touch I can never expect to feel. I have kept my grief close hidden for many years as I fought with what I have become."

Something in Remus' voice silenced the words which Severus had been about to utter. The cutting comment remained unspoken as the dark-hearted man recognised the rawness of the anguish in Remus' pain-saturated eyes.

"For one tantalising moment this afternoon I thought that grief was about to be swept away from me. I was wrong." Remus locked eyes with Severus and it was as if, finally, there was some understanding between them. "Love will make up for many things, Severus. It will scour away the rough edges of personalities, it will bridge seemingly unbridgeable gaps and it will cause a breach in the heart that cannot be mended. She loves you from the depth and height of her soul, something I did not wish to believe until today."

He paused, the words almost too painful to speak. Severus waited with a dry mouth for him to continue.

"If you wanted it," Remus continued, "you could have the safest of havens. Give her what she wishes for, what you wish for if you would only recognise it."

"How can you presume to know what I wish for?" Severus snapped.

"I know, Severus. One man can see it in another's eyes. You have what has been denied me."

"You believe I have stolen this woman from you?" Severus said as Remus finally ran out of words.

"She was never mine to steal. She was always yours and you couldn't see it. You have been blinded by your own pride and self-importance."

Remus looked at him as if he didn't have a hope of convincing Severus of anything, especially the fact that Maeve loved him beyond measure.

"I loved her too," Snape snarled. "I loved her to the point that I betrayed Voldemort for her. I exchanged my own way of life for her security."

"What did you do?" Remus asked, his mind now clear. "I never knew and she never told me exactly what happened."

"Voldemort cast an ancient curse on her," Snape sighed as he realised he needed that glass of Firewhiskey he had been about to pour. He left Remus waiting as he went to get the bottle and a couple of glasses. It was a strange sight to see them both drinking in the heart of Severus' tiny empire. "His dark magic invaded her body, sending her into a formless world beyond this one. It was part of an experiment he was conducting into curses. I was living alone in the mausoleum that was my parent's house and he brought her to me for observation. I could never decide whether or not it was cruel intention on the Dark Lord's part or whether he was genuinely unaware that I knew her."

"He brought her to you so that you could watch her die?" Remus asked.

"Yes." The memory, locked away for so long, was taken out and examined by Severus then. He could still see her lifeless form splayed out on the bed in the master bedroom and it reminded him of her other death just before Christmas. "I watched her for six hours as her skin mottled. Pale, dark patches appeared where her blood used to be as the darkness replaced the life."

"And what did you do?"

Snape looked annoyed at the interruption. He had no idea why he was even discussing this with Lupin and was on the point of stopping. But memory was a potent thing and he felt compelled to finish what he had started.

"I summoned the only person I had ever trusted beyond all doubt, Dumbledore. He came immediately, with no condemnation or censure. There was only one thing to be done and he did it. Her grandmother arrived from Ireland that evening. I don't know what passed between her and Dumbledore but he left shortly afterwards with instructions that I was not to disturb the old witch and her dying granddaughter. He came back the following morning with a couple of remains-takers and I thought she was dead." He drank deeply from his glass as the recollections burned. "Of course, it was the grandmother that died. She drew all of the dark magic out of Maeve with her ancient charms, but it was too much for her own, older body to take and it killed her."

Remus watched as Severus continued in his flat voice. Here was a description of exactly the sort of darkness they were fighting and this man was so matter of fact about it.

"Maeve accompanied her grandmother's body home. It was weeks before they told her what really happened and when they did she was, apparently, inconsolable."

"And did you contact her?"

"Dumbledore forbade it. Her near-death was enough to make me realise that I did not want what the Dark Lord was offering. There were problems before that but when it becomes personal it prompts a greater reaction." Severus stopped there. He knew he had said enough, Lupin had no right to his memories and he wasn't sure why he revealed as much as he had.

"Did she know about your part in things?"

"That's enough," Severus insisted. "I don't wish to continue with this discussion. But you were wrong to imply that I don't love her. I love her more than you or anyone will ever know."

He rose from the table and poured the remains of the Firewhiskey into the fireplace, causing violent green flames to shoot up the chimney. The strange intimacy was broken and Remus realised he was being dismissed. In the morning both men would regret these alcohol-fuelled ramblings but for the time being the two of them felt they had made their respective points.

"Don't tell her we have had this conversation, Lupin," Severus said, as Remus walked towards the door, a little steadier now than he had been on the way in. "It doesn't change anything between us. I still loathe you with the same intensity I did before, and Maeve will not change that. But I have listened to what you had to say."

"That is all I ask," Remus replied. "I will be leaving in the morning and I don't wish Maeve to know where I am going."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"I need time to accept the truth of the situation and I can only do that by severing our contact for a time. She will not understand. Be kind to her. None of your usual venom, please?"

Severus nodded curtly as Remus wrenched open the door and the ice-laden air swirled in. He had no idea what had prompted Remus' soul searching or the confession that he loved Maeve, but he did know that Maeve loved him in return and this would not go well with her. As the hunched figure of Remus Lupin left his office Severus didn't know what to make of any of it. He was hopelessly out of his depth amongst this maelstrom of emotional conflict and longed for the time when life had consisted of marking substandard homework and handing out spurious detentions.

Night crept along every corridor and passageway in the great castle, bringing with it the gentle release of sleep for most of the inhabitants. The frost-sparkled grounds also slumbered beneath a deadened sky and even Hagrid slept silently, his sleep unpunctuated by his usual strident snoring. Saoirse shifted quietly in her stable as her feet pounded a dreamed forest path, strewn with the bluebells of spring.

High up in the North Tower Sybill Trelawney was sitting by one of the high windows, looking out over the inky landscape. She had seen the strange configuration of stars earlier and tried to decipher their meaning but that was a skill better left to the likes of Firenze. She turned tired eyes back to her book, searching in vain for the meaning of her most recent, troubling dream.

Professor Dumbledore slept soundly beneath his embroidered blankets. Gold thread danced across the woollen fabric as his aged hands clutched them for warmth. He had one less worry now that Remus was safe home. Fawkes perched on the bedstead, his noble head resting on his chin secure in the knowledge that Dumbledore was safely in bed.

Harry sat up in bed, startled by something from the subliminal depths of his dreamless sleep. He searched for Ron's sleeping form and watched for a few seconds as the bedclothes rhythmically rose and fell. Satisfied that all was well he allowed himself to lie back down and before long the silky fingers of sleep reclaimed him.

Remus lay, fully clothed, on his bed. He wrestled with unseen demons as his body tried to burn away the alcohol he had drunk earlier. If sounds came from the room next door he didn't hear them. His ears were deaf to anything but the white noise of his own unease.

Severus thought he was alone as he moved through the corridors, climbing out of his self-imposed exile in the dungeons to face a truth he had long known. He reached Maeve's door and tapped as quietly as he dared. He hadn't expected a response so he tried the handle, surprised when it succumbed to his touch. He couldn't help the stab of irritation that she should leave her door unlocked at night.

Steeping into the moonlit room he wondered why the curtains had been left undone and the window unlatched. He quickly moved to close it, preventing the bone-chilling wind from penetrating the room any further. He half registered the large cardboard box on the floor as he walked into her sitting room. She was getting untidy he thought, as he saw the notebooks and papers scattered about the sofa. It was only when he peered into the open bedroom that he realised something was wrong. A hunched figure was looking under the bed and as it rose Severus felt a shock of recognition. Without thinking he withdrew his wand and sent a Binding Spell towards the surprised figure. It crashed to the floor as the ropes wound tightly round its body, a croak of surprise escaping the angry mouth.

"Where is Maeve?" Severus asked urgently. A quick glance around the bedroom using the tip of his wand plainly showed she was no longer in her rooms. There was no answer form the bound man on the floor. With mounting apprehension Severus quickly searched the other two rooms to confirm what he had first thought. Maeve O'Malley was definitely not in her rooms. He returned to the bedroom where the man was looking up at him defiantly.

"Don't ask," he said, as Severus was about to open his mouth and ask again where Maeve was. "I didn't even come for her and sure, she's gone already."

"How did you get in?"

"Aye well, we have our ways. Dumbledore thinks he is very clever with his wee charms and conundrums but some of us have the gift of by-passing all of that nonsense."

Severus frowned and crossed to the fireplace. With a flick of his wand, he had the flames licking the chimney and he stuck his head into the fire. Professor Dumbledore was still asleep but he was instantly woken by the spitting of the fire as Severus' head popped into his fireplace.

"What is it, Severus?" he asked as he struggled to his feet.

"I have just caught a Death-Eater in Maeve's room."

The note of discomfort in Severus' normally cold voice instantly sent bolts of fear through the old headmaster.

"And where is Maeve?"

"She's not here."

"I'm on my way," Dumbledore said calmly, as if this were just a student caught roaming the corridors after dark.

Many, many miles away, on a cold hospital ward a woman stirred in her sleep. She opened blank eyes to the ceiling and watched as the familiar shadows danced to entertain her. Somewhere deep down in her mind she recognised them. The boy was the most treasured shadow, which was why she continued to press him with the gum wrappers in the hope he would understand something that she had long forgotten. He was there now, smiling at her and moving his mouth. She heard him when he spoke but she could never remember what it was he said to her.

A new image startled her almost to the point of awareness but her mind couldn't quite make it. A face in shadow, dark hair furled against strong cheeks as the eyes peered into hers. A small wormlike memory stirred at the remains of her mind as she realised she knew the face. But not that face, an older version.

And as her befuddled mind finally made the connection Alice Longbottom felt something for the first time since her final confrontation with Bellatrix Lestrange. She felt fear.


	26. Weaselling In and Out

Severus pulled his head out of the fire just in time to see a small brown weasel slinking towards the door. He pointed his wand and for a few brief moments considered using an Unforgivable Curse, but his years at the heels of Voldemort were no match for the person he was now. Besides, Severus was only too aware that the man could provide information if they found the right way to prise it out of him.

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Instantly the animal froze, falling onto its back as it lost all use of its limbs. For a moment Severus was at a loss what to do. The rooms echoed with the absence of their owner and he knew there was nothing he could do to restore her to her rightful place.

The distressed teacher was sitting on Maeve's bed with his head in his hands when Professor Dumbledore strode into the room. The older wizard looked from his Potions master to the stiff weasel and knew instantly who it was.

"How on earth did Malachy Meany manage to get within the walls of the school?" he asked of no one in particular.

Severus raised his head. "Where is Maeve?" he asked bleakly. "I think that's a more pertinent question, don't you? And where are these damned Aurors who are supposed to be keeping guard over her?"

"That's a very good question, Severus. A very good question indeed." He pointed his wand at the weasel and, with a flash of blue and white, transformed the Animagus back to its usual form.

The tall, gaunt figure of Malachy Meany looked disgusted with them both. There was no fear on the Irishman's face, just a sneer that seemed to be reserved especially for Severus. Dumbledore lost no time in firing thick, heavy ropes from the end of his wand to bind the man's arms and legs tightly. He also moved quickly to secure Malachy's wand, which had been sticking out slightly from his robes. These indignities were ignored though as Malachy's eyes glinted in the candlelight and when he did speak it was to Severus.

"And how is the traitor today?" Malachy drawled, his accent thick with malice. "Still too cowardly to return to the dark side?" Severus was about to reply but Dumbledore cut him off.

"Where is your cousin, Mr Meany?" he asked calmly, as footsteps announced the arrival of reinforcements.

"I have no idea," he said, glancing towards the door where the faces of Percy Weasley and the old Auror, Titus Snow, had appeared. Dumbledore had roused them both on his way to Maeve's room and was pleased by their arrival.

"Percy, contact the Ministry and have them send up a few more Aurors. We will need more than Titus to take this particular prisoner down to London."

"Of course, Professor." Percy bobbed his head in assent and rushed off to obey the order. Titus Snow, meanwhile, was looking bewildered.

He gazed at the scene before him from beneath grey, bushy eyebrows and he knew someone was missing.

"Where's Rampton?" he asked gruffly. "He switched shifts with me tonight, much against my better judgement. Said he had somewhere he wanted to be this afternoon."

Dumbledore looked at him with an unfathomable expression on his face. It wavered between disappointment and acceptance and settled on neither. He sighed and turned to Severus, who was standing a foot away from Meany looking like he was about to kill him.

"If you don't tell me where Maeve O'Malley is I won't be answerable for my actions," Severus said, his expression was a taut mask as he out-faced his opponent.

"I don't know where the little bitch is but I'd like to get my hands on her," Meany replied, looking away from the hateful stare. A hand shot out and held him by the throat, pinning him against the wall of the room. Severus exerted just enough pressure to bring a touch of fear to the other man's eyes.

"Put him down, Severus," Dumbledore said, intervening almost reluctantly. "He doesn't know where she is. I don't believe you were even here for her, were you?" he asked, turning now to Meany.

"Not now," he answered. "There would have been time enough to take her in. We have the werewolf so she'll soon follow."

Meany looked alarmed at the harsh laugh that Severus gave and flicked his gaze to Dumbledore, who smiled benignly.

"You do not have Remus Lupin; your information is rather out-of-date. Remus Lupin was actually brought home yesterday by none other than Maeve herself," Dumbledore informed him, with some satisfaction. "In fact, Severus, would you please give Remus a knock? I know it is rather late but I think he should be aware of the night's events. I am surprised that he is not already awake."

Severus gave a sickening grin. "Oh, I think you'll find, Professor, that Mr Lupin has had a little too much to drink this evening. He came to my office a short while ago and harangued me for some time about his current state of mind. Perhaps he would be better left alone so that we can locate Maeve without his hindrance."

"Very well, let him be for now," Dumbledore said, showing no reaction to the news that Remus had been roaming the school while under the influence of alcohol. It didn't matter overly much given the current situation.

"Do we have any idea where the young lady can have taken herself off to?" Titus asked as his agitation grew. He had expected this to be one of his last assignments before his retirement. Nothing would have given him greater pleasure than to get out of this school and do some proper work for a change.

"I don't think it's a question of her taking herself anywhere," Severus snapped. "I rather think she has been taken, don't you?"

"Well now, I don't know about that," Titus began as Severus rolled his eyes. "It strikes me she is a highly unstable woman at the best of times. She has already given me the slip once and it wouldn't surprise me if this is just another of her strange meanderings."

"She is not unstable," Severus shouted, his frayed temper about to unravel completely. "She has clearly been taken by someone or something."

"Now, that may not be the case," Dumbledore said, playing peacemaker. "Hogwarts is protected from outside attack."

"It didn't damn well stop that thing getting in, did it?" Severus' voice shot up an octave as his disgust with the whole lot of them spilled over. "She could be half-way to bloody Ireland by now… or even worse…"

They never found out what could be worse than Ireland though because at that moment a harassed-looking Maeve walked into the room. She had discarded her robe earlier and was now wearing a silk dressing gown over her whisper-thin slip. If she was embarrassed at being found in her nightclothes, and with nothing on her feet, she didn't show it as she faced the four men with undisguised annoyance.

"What in Merlin's name are you lot doing in my room?" she hissed. She turned her fierce eyes to Severus. "And why can I hear you shouting? You're making enough noise to wake the dead. Honestly, I pop next door to check on Remus for two minutes and this happens."

"I'm bloody shouting because we all thought you had been kidnapped…. or worse," Severus said. His voice was still a little higher than it should have been but it was because of relief now, not anger.

"Ermm… that's not strictly true," Titus interjected. "I did mention the young lady might have wandered off of her own accord."

"You called her deranged!" Severus roared.

"I don't believe deranged was the word I used," the old Auror replied hotly. " I think I said…"

"Malachy?" Maeve interrupted their argument and walked towards the icy figure of her cousin. She took in the fact his hands and legs were bound and he was wandless. "What's going on?"

"Ask your friends," he said.

"Well?" she turned to Dumbledore expectantly.

"I'm afraid your cousin is not what he seems, Maeve." Dumbledore wondered how much more bad news about her family she could take. "He is working for Lord Voldemort and has been spying on you and the castle."

"Is this true?" She turned back to Malachy, knowing the answer. She was almost prepared for the undisguised venom in the man's voice and the look of cool hatred in his eyes. When they had last met, on the stairs of Abbeylara, it had all been thinly hidden by a veneer of politeness but now it was boiling over.

"Look at you," her cousin spat. "With your teaching post and your strange choice of friends. You always were a pain in the arse even when you were a girl. You knew everything, you charmed everyone…it was disgusting. All Niall ever wanted was money and a house but he had to put up with you and that whore of a mother of yours to get it."

He barely flinched as Maeve grabbed her wand from her dressing gown. Its point was at his throat in seconds, adding a red mark to the livid nail prints left by Severus' hands.

"Say one more thing about my mother, Malachy, and I'll kill you now. Please, give me a good reason to do it and I will."

"You and I both know you don't have the guts," Malachy croaked, the wand tip bobbing up and down as his throat moved. "You are too good. You simper and sweet-talk people…you couldn't cast a killing curse."

Maeve didn't even know what she was doing as she spoke the first word of the curse.

"Avada…"

"No, Maeve," Dumbledore said, his calm voice cutting through her loathing. "That will solve nothing. Let the Ministry deal with him."

She stopped speaking but her wand was still pressing against Malachy's windpipe, threatening his air supply. The moon-laden eyes looked into her own and she could see the darkness that had always lurked there clearly now.

"Liam always knew," she said. "He always knew what you were. I wonder if he knew that the whole O'Malley family was rotten. Thank Merlin there is none of your blood flowing through my veins because I would have to bleed it all out. I couldn't bear the impurity of it coursing through my body. It's bad enough you are here, poisoning my rooms with your filth."

"Maeve." The word was soft in her ear and for a moment she didn't recognise Severus' voice. It sounded so unlike his normal cool tone. "Why don't you come down to my rooms? You can sleep there tonight. It would be preferable to staying here with all this bad feeling in the air."

"That won't be necessary, Severus," Dumbledore said. "If Maeve feels she would like another room for the night that can be arranged."

"With respect, Headmaster, at least she would be watched properly in my rooms."

Dumbledore seemed to think for a moment before nodding his agreement. He hadn't wanted Maeve put under any pressure to remain in Severus' presence if she didn't want to but given their close contact yesterday he supposed she would welcome it now.

Maeve still hadn't taken her eyes from Malachy Meany but she did allow her wand to drop.

"I hope you receive a proper trial," she said in a sober voice. "And I hope you receive a suitable punishment for your actions, from whomever sees fit to mete it out." She reached forward and tore up the left sleeve of his shadowy robes. The Dark Mark was there for all to see, a malicious black pattern against the whiteness of the man's skin. Severus visibly flinched at the reminder of what he had been. Meany's was far, far darker than his own but the fading didn't ease the pain of the brand.

"How long?" she asked. No one really expected Meany to answer. His sullen face had a closed expression as his eyes bored into her.

"Always," he hissed. "For as long as I can remember."

"You fled when the Dark Lord was banished," Snape said. "You did not spend time in Azkaban with his faithful."

"There are better ways of showing your loyalty than sitting in a dark, dank hole where you can be of little use to anyone. The Dark Lord has always had a great following across the water and someone had to ensure when he finally did return he would have followers and the means with which to pulverise you fools." There appeared, for a fleeting instant, a look of fanaticism in Meany's milky eyes. "You were too weak to serve him properly; you are the same as her," he nodded towards Maeve, "and him." It was Dumbledore's turn to be derided. "You won't win. You can't win. You have no idea of the scale of the plan that He is about to unleash on your piteous lives."

A shadow at the doorway disturbed them. Remus had finally been roused from his stupor by the scuffles and shouts. Severus moved unnoticeably closer to Maeve, just stopping short of slipping a hand around her shoulders as he eyed his defeated rival.

"What's happening?" Remus asked, taking in the scene before him with keen interest. He was the worse for wear but his years spent working for the Order had taught him how to rouse himself when the need presented itself.

"We have had a little trouble, Remus," Dumbledore said. "Please don't concern yourself. Go back to bed and rest, it's under control."

"Maeve?" He looked at her sandwiched between two black figures and his heart contracted painfully. She had come to him, hearing the growling of his pain as he slept. He had felt her soft hands soothing his brow as he tossed in his nightmares. But reality bites and Remus, more than anyone, was used to feeling its savage teeth.

"Go back to bed," she said with a nod and it felt like a dismissal. "You are worn-out."

Severus inhaled impatiently at the misconception but held his tongue. Whatever personal disdain he felt for Lupin he would not tell Maeve about the events in his office earlier or the fact that Lupin had been drunk.

Noises on the corridor turned everyone's heads as three more people appeared in the room. Maeve recognised two of them as Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt but the third was a stranger to her. The invasion of her private space was now complete and she wanted more than anything to get away from it. She reached out her fingers to take Severus' hand and he didn't withdraw from the contact.

"I'll take you up on the offer of a bed for the night," she said, trying to smile but failing enormously. "This is giving me a headache."

Severus sheltered her with his black presence as they moved through the onlookers. His fierce, hard face prevented anyone from questioning her throughout their walk to the outer office. Even Tonks, not normally one to pick up on an atmosphere, was silent as they made a funereal exit. Severus lifted her heavy cloak down and gently, almost reverentially, placed it around her thin shoulders. He felt it again, this penetrating need to help her. It tore at his resolve with the certainty of the lion that has the beast trapped within its jaws.

"Maeve." Remus was the only one who spoke. He had followed them almost to the door.

She half-turned and in that movement, which was neither one thing nor another, he knew he had truly lost her. Maeve in turn recognised something in his body language that he could never have said in words. She knew, with a sudden flash of understanding, what he had been saying to her that evening and it saddened her even further.

"I'm so sorry, Remus," she said in a whisper. Severus' arm rested gently across the base of her spine, exerting no pressure yet providing strength beyond measure. "I'm so sorry your feelings changed. I didn't mean for them to."

Tonks stood in the background, her task for the evening forgotten as she took in Remus' dejected form. She wished there were some way she could help him. It pained her to see that the feelings she had always suspected he might form for this strange, Irish witch had blossomed. And those feelings had been deadheaded by Maeve, who stood flaunting the love that Remus so desired. Tonks placed a hand on Remus' arm but he shook it off, the look he gave her one of blank incomprehension. She concealed the hurt within herself as she returned to the bedroom to receive her instructions along with the other two Aurors. Tonks hid herself well within her work and tonight was no exception.

Severus led Maeve from her rooms and into the silent night of the castle. They moved downwards, away from the disquiet and unpleasantness towards a calmer place. Maeve never thought she would view Severus' rooms as an oasis but now, as she slipped off her outdoor cloak and sat down on his well-made bed, she realised that's exactly what it had become. The candles cast a warm light on the greenish walls and she tugged at the blankets to allow her grateful feet to dive beneath their comforting, male roughness.

Severus tried not to watch but he found his eyes irresistibly drawn towards her. How strange fate was, that it brought the object of his most perfect dreams and worst nightmares to his bed. He extinguished some of the candles before asking her, rather brusquely, if she needed anything else.

"Yes, just don't let any students catch me leaving your room at eight in the morning. I don't think I would ever live that down." The dry humour was lost on Severus as he realised that was something he would have to think seriously about.

"I'll sleep on the couch in the corner," he informed her.

She looked at the uncomfortable looking, leather-upholstered bench and wondered how anyone could refer to it as a couch. It looked more like an element of torture than somewhere that you would turn to for comfort.

"Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully, but he had already taken off his robes and was making them into a pillow. His clothes, beneath his robes, were as dark and constrictive as his outer clothes. They wrapped him up in a shield against outside intrusion.

"Of course," he replied tautly. He had slept in worse places than this. Who was he to complain?

"Well, if you are sure." She pushed herself down into the warmth of the bed and blew out her candle. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Maeve." The words were spoken so quietly that the night air whipped them away almost before they reached her ears. She heard their faint echo as she let slip her grasp on consciousness.

Alice gazed at the face that hovered above her. If only she could understand the fear. It wasn't that face but it was very like that face. She could feel the night air grasping at her lungs and her breathing became ragged. She needed her gum. Where was her gum? Her teeth ground together as she tried to chew on something that wasn't there and the face above her smiled.

"Now, now, Aunt Alice." The voice was familiar and yet unrecognised. Alice's eyes swirled around in her head as she tried to make sense of things. Could that be Freddy's young boy? "Are you after some of this?"

A hand appeared with a bright blue square clutched between the fingers. The wrapper was quickly removed and she felt the press of the gum against her lips. She accepted it gratefully as her teeth began to work at the sweet.

"I am sorry I never visited." The voice was softer now, gentling the confused woman into acceptance of its presence by her bed. "I've been a bit busy what with one thing and another but I thought it was time I came."

Alice chewed ferociously as memories confused her already damaged brain. Blue bubbles rose from her bed and Roderick glanced around quickly; worried they would be seen. The ward was silent except for the occasional snore and there were no healers in sight so he relaxed again.

"I found something tonight, something that connected us in a rather unpleasant way. I thought you knew about father but I wasn't sure." His face was a mask of forced charm. "I know you can't do much damage, lying there in that bed. But what you wrote many years ago could cause me irreparable harm. My family doesn't have much left but the one thing we do have is our name. You know what would happen if my father was exposed, don't you?"

She watched the dust in the air as it passed over her bed. A sunlit lawn and the laughter of a young boy reached her ears from a time long past. A connection was made; bubbles flying through the air and the darkness of an opened cellar door.

"He was a weak man, Alice. He had no choice but to do what he did. It killed him in the end but you wouldn't know about that. You where here when it happened. I don't think he could face the same thing happening again, the rape of his land for the use of evil. You do understand, don't you, Alice? You were like a mother to me towards the end and I'll never forget the care you took of me."

Her hand moved feebly on the bedclothes as she reached for something. It was a few moments before he realised she was reaching for his hands and he allowed them to be grasped. The cold, clammy touch of the half-dead woman repulsed him but he allowed the contact. He felt sorry that this was the fate that had been chosen for her but he could not stand the infirmity and longed to be out of the ward. He didn't really know why he had come here. He was supposed to back at Hogwarts guarding Maeve. Not that she would be up to much tonight after her recent adventures.

"I came to tell you I was sorry. A silly impulse, I admit, but I am truly sorry for what happened to you. You tried to offer my father a way out and he didn't take it. I've destroyed the diary because I couldn't risk it being read by the wrong people. It wouldn't have helped them anyway. The tunnels were destroyed and the land is owned by Muggles now so there is no chance of the plant being grown again."

He felt her fingers relax in his and he slowly drew his hand away. Was that a smile that played on her lips in the half-light? Roderick didn't allow himself the luxury of doubt. Lord Voldemort had told him personally that nothing would be done with the old land at Rampton Court and Roderick had believed him. But as he looked down at the tired face of the former Auror he had begun to wonder whether the Dark Lord had been speaking the truth. Roderick pushed the thoughts away. The Ramptons had been faithful servants and he hoped that this was Voldemort's way of rewarding him. He had been treated well and had been allowed to continue with his Auror training. Voldemort had acted like an indulgent uncle in that respect; as long as Roderick passed him a few titbits of information now and again the situation was acceptable.

"I have to go," he said, as he rose from the chair. "I have other work I should be attending to but, when I read those words, I had to come and see you. Just to tell you that things were being taken care of. If that poison is being made it is not being made at my old home. I'll come back and see you again, Aunt Alice, for father's sake."

She didn't respond. He gave the vacant woman one last glance before Disapparating quietly from the ward and straight back to the men's toilet at The Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, which he had left just fifteen minutes earlier.

Picking his broom up from behind the cistern he gathered his cloak tightly around him and left the grimy bathroom. The pub was dimly lit by greasy candles and only a few people clustered around the bar area, laughing at something the barman had said. He approached the bar and clapped one of them on the back.

"Well, Malcolm," he said with false jollity. "This after hours drinking is all well and good but my bed calls. If you would be so good as to let me out I'll be on my way."

Malcolm, who was surprised the well-bred young man chose the Hog's Head as his boozer of choice, grinned at him with a mouth devoid of teeth and shuffled off his bar stool. He reached into his pocket for a set of oversized brass keys and dragged his feet towards the heavy door of the pub.

"You're allus welcome 'ere, my lad," he said in a deep, rough voice. "Your money spends as well as anybody's."

"Thanks," Roderick said, eager now to be away from the sordid atmosphere of the pub and the sickly glare of the hospital. He stepped into the night without a backward glance and flipped his leg across his broom before taking off into the night. Malcolm watched him go through narrowed eyes and wondered why the young lad's face looked so familiar. With a shrug he turned and closed the door, turning the key stiffly in the lock. A few more foaming few pints of beer waited for him at the bar and he was looking forward to finishing them off before bed.

Roderick thought he was doing well as he slipped silently back into Hogwarts. It was only two in the morning and he felt fairly sure he would be able to take up his position beside Maeve's door without too much trouble. He dropped his broom off in his room before walking quietly towards the second floor offices of Professor O'Malley. It had been fortunate he had swapped shifts with old Titus. As soon as he had heard that Dumbledore had arrived with a box of Alice Longbottom's things he knew he would have to find a way of intercepting anything that might have been damaging. He had thought, when Maeve went directly to bed, that it would be easy but she had got up again and he had been afraid she would read the diary before he had the chance to get it away. Luck had sent her to sleep before she could fully read the contents and Roderick had been only too happy to slip silently into her room and take it before she woke. The little spell he had that allowed him to see through walls had proved well worth the effort it took to cast it in this instance.

As he approached her door and saw the light seeping out he knew immediately that something had gone badly wrong. Racing along the last few yards he reached the door just in time to see Malachy Meany being ushered from the room with hands and legs bound tightly. A flicker of recognition passed between the two men but neither acknowledged the other. Roderick smiled briefly at Tonks, Titus and the other two men before swallowing hard and walking into the room. He felt deeply uncomfortable when he realised that Albus Dumbledore was in there, alone.

"Ah, Mr Rampton," Dumbledore said, without looking at the other man. "You have been out visiting at this late hour?"

"An emergency, Professor," Roderick lied slickly. "An old aunt taken to hospital. I thought I had better pop along for a few minutes just to see if the old dear would make it through the night."

"And will she?" Dumbledore did not believe the lie but nor did he want to alert the young man to that fact until he could establish exactly where he had been.

"Yes. Silly old bird took a Double Dream Draught and then went out shopping. Collapsed in Diagon Alley while trying to buy some silk underwear."

Despite himself Dumbledore couldn't help smiling at the inventiveness.

"Where is Maeve?" Roderick asked.

"She is with Severus. There was an incident with an unwelcome visitor. Fortunately she was not in the room at the time." Dumbledore looked at him for some sort of reaction and he had to admire Roderick's skill as an Auror when there was none. He was a perfectly adept spy, which was what made him so useful.

"The visitor was the man who has just left?"

"Malachy Meany, her cousin. Do you know him?"

"No, never seen the chap before. What did he want?"

"We don't know, but he wasn't too concerned with capturing Maeve, fortunately." Dumbledore closed the bedroom door and then the sitting room door, leaving them standing in the outer office. "There will be no need for you to stand guard tonight, Severus will keep a watch over her for now. Perhaps you could go back to your aunt?"

"Oh, not necessary," Roderick bluffed as they stepped out into the corridor. "She's sound asleep. I may as well grab some extra sleep myself and work Titus' shift for him in the morning, if that's all right?"

"Well, as long as you don't make any more unscheduled trips away from the castle, I don't see why not."

The two wizards nodded a sharp goodnight before walking off in opposite directions. Both of them had nagging doubts but they concerned vastly different things. As Roderick rounded the corner a shadowy figure stepped into his path and the soft brush of a tail wound itself around Roderick's legs.

"'Evening, Mr Rampton." Mr Filch's insidious voice was low as he watched the young Auror's eyes flicker dangerously. "Rather late to be wandering around?"

"The same could be said for you, my good fellow," Roderick said lightly, making to step past the skulking man.

"Ah, but it's my job to be patrolling these corridors. Aren't you supposed to be watching someone?"

"It's none of your business," he snapped. Roderick had never liked this fawning excuse for a caretaker. There was something deeply wrong about the man and he couldn't pinpoint it.

"There's lots of things that aren't my business, but I know them all the same." Filch leered. "I know, for instance, that you are acquainted with that chap they took away tonight."

"You are mistaken. Now, if you don't mind I have a bed to get to."

Filch blocked his way as Mrs Norris continued to wind her way around Roderick's legs.

"Nah, I'm not mistaken," Filch insisted. "I've seen you down the Hog's Head when you don't think anyone's looking. The pair of you seem quite pally, I'd say."

"I said you were mistaken and you are. I don't frequent the Hog's Head and if I did I wouldn't be meeting the likes of that filth. Now, Mr Filch, if I have to ask you again to get out of my way I will do so with my wand rather than with words. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you," Filch said, as he stepped to one side. "I understand you more than you would like."

Filch liked to rattle people and he could see that Roderick Rampton was very rattled indeed as he stormed off down the corridor. Mrs Norris transferred her sinuous movements back to Filch and he gave a low snigger that was filled with spite. He'd get one up on these oh-so-clever wizards if it was the last thing he did. Mr Filch liked to gather information, secure in the knowledge that one day it would worth something to somebody.

No natural light entered the dungeon office so Severus had become used to waking himself at five o'clock without the use of either a timepiece or daylight. He despised the harsh tones of bells penetrating his sleeping mind and refused an alarm clock, no matter how gentle the chime. This morning his usually reliable body clock let him down and he was still sleeping restlessly as the rest of the school woke up. Maeve curled peacefully in his bed, turning at the occasional drip of water or the movement of the restive Severus. It was only when a particularly large spark from the fire whizzed out and crackled against the stone floor that Severus woke. He knew immediately it was late. The whole atmosphere of his rooms shrieked at him that it was well past the normal waking hour. Severus was not a man to panic unduly but this could have catastrophic consequences. He sat up, the pain in his neck from the uncomfortable position made him wince but he ignored the numb sensation and crossed to the bed.

In any other circumstances he would have almost enjoyed watching the sleeping figure in his bed. He was reminded of her softness on the boat when they had first brought her back. Maeve's face was mottled on one side from the effects of lying on the rumpled pillow and it gave her the appearance of having little white scars running across her cheek. Her hair was tangled and ran across the pillow in a web of livid red. He took all this in within a few seconds and then spoke her name roughly, not trusting himself to shake her awake. She stirred lazily and opened one eye to the gloom.

"Good morning," she croaked, her voice dry and cracked.

"It's after eight," he said shrilly. "The whole bloody school will be up. We need to get you out of here without the students seeing you."

"Hmm," she said, opening the other eye and registering the look of angry panic on his face.

"Maeve, please, get up!"

He hurriedly unfurled his robes and began to button himself into them. He knew that once the last button was fastened he would feel a little more like himself. Maeve threw lazy arms above her head and stretched out against the bedclothes. She knew it would be easy enough for her to slip from the room with her cloak around her shoulders. If anyone spotted her they would think she had been for an early morning walk and was passing by the Potions Master's rooms with something school-related.

"I slept really well," she yawned, watching as he hurriedly smoothed his hair down. "How about you?"

"How about me what?" he asked. "And please hurry up!"

"How well did you sleep?" she repeated, sitting up.

Severus quickly averted his eyes, as she was wearing only the thin slip that barely covered any flesh. He could feel a flush creep up his cheeks and he quickly walked through to the other room, ignoring her question.

"Just get up!" he shouted. "What if a student comes to my door?"

"Is that likely?" she asked, raising her voice to be heard through the walls. "They don't often bother me first thing in the morning."

"Well, it's unlikely but it's possible," he said, sticking his head back through the door as he gathered together some books that he wanted for the first lesson. He immediately regretted it though as she had jumped from the bed and was standing there with next to nothing on. "For Merlin's sake, put some bloody clothes on!"

"Don't be such a prude," she said, grinning. She did put the dressing gown around her shoulders though and Snape heaved a sigh as the fabric covered up most of her visible body. "You did invite me to spend the night here, as I recall."

"I didn't expect you still to be here when the rest of the school woke up though. How are you going to get out of my rooms without being seen?" He collided with her as he crossed to the small sink to brush his teeth.

"Hey! I was going to wash my face," she grinned but the grin quickly faded as he glared at her, toothpaste foaming around his mouth. "It can wait."

She wandered into his sitting room, if you could call the dungeon a sitting room. It really looked more like a torture chamber than anything else. She pointed her wand at the table and with a quick charm produced some hot jug of coffee and two cups. Pouring the hot liquid into the cups she wondered if he was normally this tetchy in the morning. What did it take to find a morning person around here?

"Do you want a coffee? I've made you one anyway," she called between hot sips of the reviving liquid.

"Want a what?" he thundered as he strode back into the room with his face clear of any traces of toothpaste. "What are you doing?" he looked as horrified as she had ever seen him. "Maeve, will you please just go!"

"You are going to do yourself an injury if you carry on like this. I don't even have a lesson until 10 o'clock so it's not as if I am going to be late. Perhaps it would be better if I stayed here until all the children are in class. I promise I won't touch anything or make this place look in any way like an attractive living space."

He looked at her, pondering the possibility. "Yes, I suppose you could."

"And I could always borrow something to transfigure into a pair of shoes," she suggested, her eyes trailing thoughtfully towards the two bats that were hanging peacefully from one of the beams that ran across the ceiling.

"You will not touch my bats," he said sternly and then froze as someone knocked on the door. Unlike Maeve's room, which had an outer office, this one opened straight onto the corridor and he looked at her askance as the knock sounded again, sharper this time.

"Bedroom, now," he hissed.

"Okay," she said, placing her mug down on the table and sloping off towards the other room. She wouldn't mind an extra half hour in bed; it would make for a relaxing morning after the strain of last night. She couldn't help wondering, despite herself, what had happened to Malachy Meany. They would try him very quickly and he would probably be sent to Azkaban. Not that she minded. If Voldemort hadn't been using the Dementors she would have quite liked him to receive the kiss.

She heard him open the door and Harry's voice reached her ears.

"Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you these," he said sullenly to Severus. Maeve craned around to see what Harry had brought but she couldn't manage an angle that would mean she could see without being seen.

"Thank you, Potter," Severus said brusquely. "That will be all."

"Ermm, she also asked me to remind you that…" Harry stopped mid-sentence and she could hear Severus' sharp intake of impatient breath.

"Yes?" he prompted.

Harry was too busy looking elsewhere. Through the door to the bedroom he could see a mirror and reflected in that mirror was the semi-clad figure of his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. She was sitting up in bed running fingers through tousled hair and Harry suddenly felt sick. His eyes moved to the table and he could see the two coffee cups still steaming.

"Yes?" Severus said again, in his agitation he hadn't really taken in what Harry was seeing.

"Can't remember," Harry said dully. "You'll have to ask her yourself."

"Don't be so impertinent, boy. You must have some idea what it was she…. oh, never mind." But Harry was already hurrying away with a disgusted look on his face. As Severus turned around he saw what Harry had seen, the mirror was still glinting treacherously at the now closed door. He couldn't believe it. Of all the students to see her it had to be that runt, Potter. He ground his teeth a little before walking across and slamming the bedroom door closed on a startled Maeve. She frowned as she then heard the outer door slam and silence descended on the room.


	27. Drooble's Best Blowing Gum

Hermione knew something was wrong with Harry as soon as he came back from running the errand for Professor McGonagall. His cheeks were red and he grabbed indiscriminately at the books that were sitting on the table, stuffing them into his bag with some force. His face was expressionless as he threw the bag across his shoulder and walked silently from the common room without even acknowledging Hermione or Ron.

"What's up with him now?" Ron asked, watching as his friend's tousled head popped through the portrait and out of sight.

"I don't know," Hermione mused, "but I bet we'll find out sooner or later. Knowing Harry, probably sooner."

"I saw Lupin at breakfast. He looked terrible and I overheard him say something to Dumbledore about leaving. D'you think that's what it is?"

"Could be." Hermione carefully placed her Charms textbook in her bag along with _Arithmancy: Advanced Techniques for the Advanced Student_. "Why don't you catch up with him and find out? I don't think I could bear it if he sulks for the whole day."

Ron pulled a face and got up from the comfortable chair he was sitting in. He hated trying to prise information from Harry. It was like trying to get pumpkin juice from a stone: fruitless.

"Are we still on for lunch?" he asked shyly, picking up his stuff from its scattered position around his feet.

"Yes, of course." Hermione smiled as she grabbed her little box of S.P.E.W. badges. "We can try and sell a few of these too."

That wasn't quite what Ron had had in mind but it was better than nothing so he nodded with feigned enthusiasm. He loped off after Harry and finally caught up with him at the head of the main stairs.

"Hang on, mate," he puffed, as Harry was about to descend into the entrance hall. "Wait for me."

"Hurry up then," Harry said irritably. "I haven't got all day."

"Keep your messy hair on," Ron replied once he had finally caught up with his friend. "Who's got your goat this time?"

"It's nothing," Harry said, taking the lead and stomping down the stairs.

"Nah, it is something. You've got a face like a slapped Veela. Come on, out with it."

Harry knew Ron well enough to know he wouldn't be happy until he had found out so he stopped walking and turned a scowling face to Ron.

"It's Snape," he said, lowering his voice so they could not be overheard.

"What's he done this time? Put you in another detention? Poisoned Hedwig?" Ron grinned.

"Of course he hasn't poisoned Hedwig!" Harry snapped back in a loud voice.

"Shhhh!" Ron glanced around him to see if there was anyone in the vicinity. The rest of the students didn't seem to have made their way down from their common rooms yet so they were in luck.

"It was Maeve," Harry said, lowering his voice again. "I went to drop off some parchments with Snape this morning for Professor McGonagall and saw her in his room."

"How did you find out where his room was?" Ron asked. It was well known that the teachers' rooms were out-of-bounds to students. Professor O'Malley had been the exception to the rule in making the whereabouts of her private rooms known, but Ron was pretty sure Snape would never have done the same.

"McGonagall told me, but I've known for ages. Some of his pet Slytherins know where it is so they can go and see him when they get stuck on their Potions homework. Nothing like a nice bit of in-house favouritism, is there?" Harry grinned ruefully.

"Okay, so what does it matter if she was in his room. She was probably just dropping something off."

"Yeah, like her clothes," Harry spat.

"You're joking!" Ron's eyes almost popped out of his head as all sorts of images flashed into his head. "You saw her…in the buff?" He was agog. Ron could only fantasise about seeing a fully formed female without clothes so this was the stuff of dreams.

"No," Harry replied impatiently. Sometimes Ron acted so stupidly that he could cheerfully have smacked him. "She was in his bed in her night…thingy. I saw her through the mirror."

"Wow!" Ron was still looking shell-shocked. "Who would have thought the greasy git had it in him. Quirrell, I could understand, all the women fancied him, but Snape? She doesn't set herself high standards, does she? Imagine him kissing you…it would be like being kissed by a sweaty Horklump." Ron gave a mock shudder and laughed, but one look at his friend's face told him that Harry didn't think it was a laughing matter. "Look, Harry, I hate Snape as much as the next person but you have to admit it is quite funny. Maybe she'll calm him down a bit, make him a bit less of a complete arse. It could have its up-side."

Harry merely continued to glare at him in a disgusted manner.

"I just don't understand how she can do it…. whatever she did…. with him. She knows I hate him and she knows what he's done to me in the past." Harry's appalled face just made Ron want to smile even more.

"I think you're over-reacting a bit, mate." Ron said with a shrug. "It's none of our business what they get up to in their own rooms. It's not like she's not doing it to get at you, is she? And she probably wouldn't have wanted you to see her."

Harry shook his head.

"Well, there you go then. Let 'em get on with it. You're just put out after that disaster with Cho."

"This has got nothing to do with Cho!" Harry said. "I never really got Cho. She went all weird on me and cried a lot. I don't understand girls in the slightest and right now I have no wish to, either. I just wish Maeve hadn't spent the night with Snape."

"Good morning, gentlemen," Remus said as he trotted down the stairs with his case in his hand and an air of grim defeat about him. "Off to classes?"

"Yeah," they muttered in unison. "Charms."

"Good," Remus mumbled. "Well I'm off to do a bit of work so I doubt I'll see you around for a bit. You will take care, won't you?"

"What are you doing?" Harry asked and Remus smiled in response.

"Now, you know I can't tell you that, Harry," he said, turning to the other boy. "Thank you again, Ron, for what you did for me. You saved my life and I hope someday I can repay the debt I owe you."

"S'all right," Ron said with a cheerful smile as he thought back to his heroics and felt the warm glow of accomplishment on him.

"Keep yourself safe, Harry. And keep an eye on Maeve for me. I don't think I will be seeing her for sometime."

Harry didn't like the sound of that at all. It sounded like Remus was going away for a long time and that could mean he was spying. When he voiced his concerns Remus brushed them away with a smile.

"No, it's nothing like that. I'm off to work in Europe for a while. There are things to do that will help our cause and I need to get away from here and London for a bit. Don't worry, you'll see me again."

He gave them both one last pat on the shoulder before recommencing his descent down the stairs.

"Remus," Harry called and the weary looking man turned around. "I'm really sorry for what we did."

"You've already apologised, Harry. There is no need for more." He turned to go again but Harry had one last question.

"Have you said goodbye to Maeve?" He knew it was highly unlikely, if she had been holed up with Snape all night. Remus gave him a pained look before walking away without answering the question. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard the cold voice of Professor Snape call Harry and he almost stopped to say something. But Remus still felt the sting of Maeve's inadvertent dismissal so he carried on walking towards the main door and out of the school.

The air was cold as one of the last frosts of winter sparkled in the early morning light. Remus felt the bright contrast of the day with his own grim mood and wished he could swap the two around.

It had been good of Dumbledore to arrange this posting with an institute in Paris. They were a very forward-thinking group that would accept him for what he was and allow him to base himself at their headquarters. It would be lonely, so far away from everyone he knew, but it had to be done. He had made a fool of himself last night with Severus and he felt it necessary to put some space between himself and Maeve. If only to give him time to sort out his feelings and accept that their relationship would always be a platonic one.

He cast one last look back at Hogwarts as he headed for Hogsmeade. It was a beautiful place, rising to touch the clouds with sky-tipped towers. Within its walls was contained such goodness and power that he felt he was walking away from the only place he had ever really felt at home, despite what had happened there in the past. He cut a lonely figure as he walked into the distance, carrying with him a lifetime of troubles.

"That will be all, Weasley," Severus sneered at Ron, who in turn winked at Harry before hurrying along to Charms. The rest of the students were now piling their way to their lessons so Severus steered Harry away from the stairs and into a quiet corner.

" I don't know what you thought you saw this morning," Severus began.

"I know exactly what I saw," Harry cut in ruthlessly.

"Silence, Potter," Severus snarled, annoyed both at himself for getting into this situation and at Harry for his perennially bad attitude. "You did not see what you thought you saw. There was some trouble last night and I offered Professor O'Malley the use of my rooms."

"Yeah, right," Harry said, disbelief etched on his face.

"Don't be so insolent. You will tell no-one what you saw and if I hear the slightest rumour" – he leaned close to Harry, breathing icily in his face – "I will know exactly where it came from and the consequences for you will be dire."

"Great, more detentions," Harry said, staring into the black eyes fearlessly. There was nothing Snape could do to him now that would, in any way, cause him to lose his temper or suffer. Dire wasn't a word that had any power over Harry, not after Sirius' death.

"I am not telling you this for myself, you insufferable child. It is in Professor O'Malley's best interests that rumours do not fly around the school. Surely even with your limited intelligence you can see that?"

Severus resented the need for this conversation and would have relished strangling Maeve for her carelessness in leaving that door open. But still, if he really examined his feelings, really accepted her presence, then he would have found a part of him that had quite enjoyed having her company in his rooms that morning. How different from the usual tightly ordered routine it had been. Admittedly he had been very uncomfortable with the prospect of discovery but her physical presence had been rather… stimulating.

"Yes, fine," Harry said in a flat monotone. He brought Severus back to earth and away from the sudden image of Maeve's pale skin being caressed by the grey blankets.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get to class," Severus barked as he whirled away and stalked back to his own classroom where a bunch of terrified first-years were anticipating yet another morning of hell.

Maeve, meanwhile, had left his bats well alone. Knowing her lapsed skills at Transfiguration and the flighty personality of bats they wouldn't have made good shoes anyway. She waited until the school was safely tucked up in lessons and then flung her cloak around her and slipped barefoot from Severus' room. As she closed the door behind her she paused, looking back. It was an unwelcoming room, dark and ominous, but she had been strangely happy sharing the space with the ill-tempered Severus. He had snapped and snarled his way through the morning but she put that down to his usual remoteness and the fact he seldom had to share living space with anyone. For a shivering moment she wondered what it would have been like if he had left that creaky couch and joined her in the expansive bed. With a smile at her own forwardness she clicked the door on its latch and scuttled up to her own room. She had half an hour to get ready for lessons and she had no idea what state her rooms would be in after the ruckus last night.

As she walked into the familiar surroundings she could still smell the binding magic from the previous night. Everything was exactly as she had left it, right down to the scattering of papers and notebooks that surrounded the sofa. She ignored the mess and quickly changed into something more appropriate, leaving the silk of her slip in a gleaming heap on the bed. Malachy Meany's voice filled the silence as she prepared for her first lesson. Her mother was a whore and her father had just wanted her money. Maeve looked up at her mother's portrait, as if she could find some flesh and blood comfort in the scratchy oil paint. Grainne smiled contentedly down and Maeve realised she hadn't known her mother all that well. She had spent far more time with her grandmother than with the tall, graceful witch who had given birth to her.

A distant memory of simmering perfume stirred beneath Maeve's nose. Freesia always made her feel comforted and she now remembered why – it had been her mother's scent. Memories of the elegantly dressed witch came flooding back. Maeve had been a solitary child and sometimes she felt a million miles away from her mother but they had always managed to form a connection that was unbreakable. Many evenings Grainne had come to her room to read her a bedtime story and those illicit, late night meetings held a very special place in her memory. It was at these times that she had learned of the history of Ireland and the wonderful tales of heroism and romance. It was on such evenings that she had learned of Lugh Lamfada and his exploits. Maeve had been transfixed as her mother told her of the great Irish warrior Cuchulian and his attempts to defeat the marauding queen, Maeve of Connacht. With a warm realisation she realised that these people were no longer the stuff of fairy tales and long distant history. These had become her story. Was she named after Maeve of Connacht, she wondered? Did her mother choose that name because she wanted her daughter to have a strong sense of her own destiny. So many questions that would never be answered and all the while Grainne stared benevolently down at her daughter.

With a glance at the clock Maeve realised she had only twenty minutes to get to her first lesson so she scooped up Alice's papers and dropped them back into the box. It was only then that she realised something was missing. She frowned as she looked underneath the sofa and scrabbled about with the cushions. Why, she thought, where books always going missing from her room? There could be only one explanation and it probably concerned Malachy Meany. So Alice had been on to something in her research and had entered it into her diary. It must have been something fairly important if Voldemort had sent one of his spies to collect it. With so little time to get to her lesson Maeve really didn't give it much thought, vowing to follow up on the idea when she had free time later that day.

In a flurry of robes and books she left her office and jogged down the corridor, surprised by the presence of a few blue bubbles floating along the ceiling. They bobbed upwards before bursting with a gentle pop on the rough stonework. Blue bubbles…. She stopped to watch and wondered why they jogged a memory. Of course, gum wrappers! Not just gum wrappers either but the actual gum. She mentally kicked herself for being so stupidly short-sighted when something so obvious had been in front of her for so long. Her mind made a huge mental leap and connected the gum wrappers that Alice pressed on her son and the fact that she had been finding pieces of the actual gum around the school. But not just around the school – there had been the piece Ron found on the ground at Abbeylara. She felt a shiver as she made a tenuous connection between the person who could have left them, either by accident or design. Roderick was always in and out of her rooms, he had been sitting with her at lunch when she found the piece beneath the table and, of course, he had been in the forest at Abbeylara. She had no idea what Roderick chewing Drooble's Best Blowing Gum meant but she felt sure it meant something.

"Roderick," she called into the emptiness. There was no response and yet he should have been there. At the very least Titus Snow should have been patrolling her room. She walked back towards her door, the thought of teaching temporarily forgotten. As a robed figure appeared at the other end of the corridor she stopped and blinked for a moment before recognising the blonde, pale features of Draco Malfoy.

"Mr Malfoy," she called, surprised by his presence. "What are you doing in this part of the school?"

"Fancied a walk," he said with a disrespectful smirk on his face. "Just, sort of, wound up here."

There were so many things about the boy that unsettled her and she was overeager to be rid of him. His startling blue eyes challenged her as she told him to get to class immediately or lose house points.

"I'm on my way," he said slowly, before his eyes were drawn up to the remaining few blue bubbles that floated just beneath the beams. He grinned a strange grin as his eyes flicked back to her. "Been chewing gum?"

"And if I had," she said, alerted by his sudden interest in the one thing she herself was interested in.

"Well, I suppose you would be," he said. "All things considered."

"Yes," she said. Her excitement grew as she wondered if she could lead him on into saying something else. It was impossible to forget who Draco's father was. Draco couldn't be expelled or censured just for having a criminal father but she felt sure he still kept in contact with the fugitive. No doubt Lucius Malfoy greatly encouraged his son to follow in his footsteps. "But sometimes you have to do these things, don't you Draco?" her eyes narrowed, goading him into further speech.

"You do if you know what's good for you," Draco replied. "Dad knew before anyone, of course. He was the one that…" He stopped, the realisation of who he was talking to overrode any need to brag about his famous, if elusive, father.

"Did he, Draco?" Maeve said, stepping just a little bit closer to the boy. He had grown in the past few months and was now almost as tall as she was. Maeve had met Lucius once, a long time ago, at Severus' parents house and he too had been fairly tall. The son obviously took after the father in more ways than one. "The one that…what, Draco?"

The boy flushed slightly before bouncing back with a sly expression.

"Well, surely, if you're chewing the stuff then you'll know. Nice plot, keeping it to yourself though. Let the rest of them suffer." He gave her one last look that clearly suggested he felt he had got the upper hand in the conversation before hurrying off down the corridor.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" she muttered to herself. Things were definitely taking a turn for the peculiar and she realised that finding out what the mystery was surrounding Drooble's gum was fast becoming a top priority for her. Actually, she thought with a quick look at her wristwatch, her number one priority right now was teaching a bunch of second-years how to repel transfiguring spells. It was fairly advanced magic but she felt sure they could handle it. All her classes needed pushing. Defence Against the Dark Arts had become one of the most important subjects on the curriculum as Voldemort continued to grow in strength. She scurried off in the direction of her classroom but just as she came to the statue of Maelfric the Maleficent she collided with a shifty figure that had walked right into her path. Her sheaf of parchments flew into the air and cascaded around them in a shower of pale, cream ribbons. As she scrabbled to pick them up she barely had chance to notice the fixed grin that Filch the caretaker was wearing.

"Well, we are in a hurry, aren't we?" he said.

"Yes," she spluttered, "I'm in a very big hurry if you must know. No, please don't apologise for walking straight in to me…it's quite all right." She stood up with the parchments jiggling around precariously in her arms. "And thanks for helping me to pick them all up, very good of you." The sarcasm was lost on Filch who merely grinned even wider.

"Seen your pal recently?" he asked, mentally wrong footing her.

"Who?" she snapped, trying to steer a path clear of him but it was proving difficult when you couldn't see where you were going for parchments.

"Your red-cloaked friend. The one that likes to go for midnight trips out of school."

"Roderick?" she asked in surprise. "When was he out of school?"

Filch looked very pleased to have scored a bullseye on the surprise front. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he said, rubbing his hands together in a very oily fashion.

"Yes, I would like to know, but I don't have all day to stand around waiting for you to stop playing games. If I want to know, I'll ask him myself." A parchment escaped and flew to the floor at Filch's feet. He bent down to pick it up, revealing a shining bald patch in the middle of his thinning, greasy hair.

"You could ask him," he said, holding the roll out to her, "but I don't reckon he'll tell you. And I don't reckon he'll tell you who he meets with in The Hog's Head late on a night. I could tell you though, for a price." And with that he stuffed the roll of parchment back into the pile she was carrying and shuffled off down the corridor leaving Maeve to look after him with a bewildered look on her face. Now she was starting to get very annoyed at the incapability of anyone to give her a straight answer to anything, ever.

She made it to her class with a minute to spare and plonked her teetering load unceremoniously down on her desk with an instruction to the students to settle themselves down. She huffed and puffed for a bit as she gave them their instructions and divided them into groups of three. Her mind was firmly elsewhere and it was taking all her powers of concentration to get this class going. Despite her best efforts the class was an unmitigated disaster. Mala Hopkirk turned Alan Davies into a huge, white rabbit using a charm that she couldn't remember. No one knew how she had managed it so they spent a precious half hour trying to undo the charm. All the normal cancelling spells wouldn't work and it was only when Maeve let fly with a particularly brutal Expere Magicus spell did the rabbit gradually transform itself back to the petrified-looking Alan. He still had a little bit of white fluffiness around his cheeks though and the tail didn't disappear for the best part of a week. He avoided Mala like the plague after that, though secretly Maeve rather admired the power of the spell the young second-year had cast.

With only twenty minutes of the lesson left Maeve was beginning to lose her temper at their apparent inability to throw off the charms. When Katherine Brooke managed to unintentionally give David Jones a bloody nose while trying to turn him into an elephant she finally lost her temper completely. She barked at them all to sit in their seats and write up their findings immediately.

"Not that you'll have much to write," she bellowed. "_I'm bloody hopeless_ won't take very long now, will it!"

The class looked at her reproachfully as Katherine helped David from the room to see if Madam Pomfrey could reset his nose. Now that the pain was subsiding David was rather enjoying the attention of the pretty Katherine. Maeve thought his squeals of pain were more to gain sympathy than genuine cries of distress. It was with the utmost relief that she welcomed the bell to signify the end of the lesson and she dismissed them all thankfully. She was so flustered with them that she forgot to set any homework, it was only later that she realised why they had stampeded out of the classroom so quickly. They wanted to get out before she realised her omission.

As she recovered form the ordeal the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff seventh-years poured in to the room and sat themselves down, looking warily at the blood on the floor left by David Jones' nose. Maeve cleared it up with a quick_ "Scourgify"_ before setting them some text-based work to go through. She couldn't face another practical lesson before lunchtime, which came around all too slowly.

Just when she finally thought she would have the classroom to herself she felt a presence at the doorway and looked up to see Roderick standing there.

"Hi," she said briefly and continued to tidy her desk.

"Hello, yourself," he replied jovially. "Lunch?"

"No, thanks," she said firmly. "I really have far too much to do…and this time I mean it."

"Sure?"

"Yes, absolutely sure, Roderick." She moved towards him, not intending to give an inch because she knew he would do his best to persuade her. She had too much to think about to let Roderick cloud her judgement with his charming smile and easy manner. He moved to allow her to pass and she carried on walking away.

"Sorry about last night," he said, not moving from the doorway to the classroom.

"What about it?" she asked, still eager to be away and looking over Alice's books. "Oh, actually," she continued before he had the chance to explain, "I do have a question for you…one posed by our curious caretaker. Do you drink at the Hog's Head?"

She couldn't be certain but she thought she caught the faintest shift in his attitude as he licked his lips.

"No," he said. "Why would I drink there? It's a complete hole filled with thieves and miscreants."

"Okay," she said, not sure whether she believed him or not. "You're sure you don't… meet anyone there?"

He licked his lips again before answering. "No."

"Okay." She turned to carry on walking, half expecting him to call her back but he didn't. He stood watching her go, realising he had a serious problem in the form of Argus Filch that would have to be dealt with, and soon.

Unfortunately Maeve wasn't destined to get back to her rooms without one last encounter. As she passed the library she spotted Harry looking rather lost.

"What's the matter, Harry?" she asked. "Ron and Hermione deserted you."

She realised as soon as the first flush rose up Harry's cheeks that he knew she had been in Severus' rooms that morning. That explained why Severus had left in such a strop with a grand slam of the door. Harry was unable to meet her eyes and mumbled something about S.P.E.W. Maeve was uncertain whether he was merely embarrassed at what he thought might have happened or whether he was still harbouring a grudge against the idea that she and Severus might be closer than he would like them to be.

"Spit it out," she said, mentally shelving her plans to go over Alice's notes again.

"Spit what out?" he said, running a hand through his already messy hair. "I've got to go to lunch."

"Then why are you standing in front of the library?" she asked pointedly.

"Wanted something to read." He didn't convince himself, let alone Maeve, who tapped her foot lightly on the stone floor and regarded him with an inquisitive stare.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry. Will you stop brooding and tell me what's bothering you. Did you perhaps find something out you didn't like?"

"Why?" he asked, changing tack from unwillingness to talk at all to head-on confrontational. "Why do you have to spend so much time with Snape? I've really tried to get my head around it. Tried to understand what you see in him, but you know what? I can't. He's a nasty prat who has nothing good to say about anyone."

"We have been here before, Harry," she said. "I am not going over this again. You have to accept that your view of Professor Snape is tainted by events. I know he has been hard on you and some of your classmates…"

"Yeah right…he's hard on everyone. Except for the Slytherins."

"I spent last night in Professor Snape's rooms, Harry," she said, "because he caught a Death Eater in my own room. Not just any Death Eater but a member of my own family." She watched as her words had their sobering effect. "Now, given those circumstances I was rather happy not to have to sleep in my room last night and took up Severus' kind offer of a bed, and a watchful eye, for the night. He slept on a rather uncomfortable couch. Whatever you want to think about Professor Snape, he has a great deal of courage and occasionally kindness. I do believe he has saved your life on one or two occasions."

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Hermione is a font of knowledge when it comes to you and your escapades. Please, Harry, don't judge him on just what you see now. I tried to tell you all of this at Grimmauld Place but you wouldn't listen."

"I wasn't ready to listen." Harry's temper flared for a moment and then died as he recalled the scenes from Severus' Pensieve memories the previous year.

"And are you ready now?"

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "I saw something last year that made me think a bit differently, not really about Snape but about my father and…and Sirius."

A group of first-years burst from the library giggling and Harry instantly fell silent as they passed. He seemed reluctant to continue with what he had been about to say so, with a feeling of inevitability, Maeve invited him up to her room. He clearly had something on his mind and she wanted, amongst other things, to try and get him to give up on his grudge with Severus. Maybe if one half of the feuding duo gave up then the other could be persuaded to see sense also.

Harry looked suddenly hesitant as they approached her rooms, as if the need to confide was receding. She jollied him through the door and got him to take a seat at her desk, which he did with a little reluctance. He looked curiously at the huge box that she moved over to the window and couldn't help himself asking what it was.

"It's a bit sensitive," she said and Harry thought she looked momentarily mournful. He understood when she told him about Alice and her things.

"Does Neville know?" Harry asked, his eyes drawn irresistibly to the box and its contents.

"No, I'm not sure I want Neville to know. It could be too upsetting."

"You gave me Mum's book; you didn't think that would be upsetting."

"That was different, Harry. I knew you would want that book; it was a nice reminder for you of your mum's schooldays. This is something else entirely. This was what got Alice a life-sentence in St Mungo's."

Harry remembered the photograph Mad-Eye Moody had shown him last year of his mum and dad with the other Order members. He felt the painful memory of how upset he had been wash over him and he knew that Maeve was right to be cautious. If it had been his mum's things he would probably have wanted to see them, but in his own time.

"So," she changed the subject. "What did you see last year that made you think differently about your father?"

Harry shifted in his chair and began to play with the miniature paperweight that sat on Maeve's desk. It contained a witch on a broomstick flying above a small landscape of a town. As he shook it sparks showered down on the tiny figure and a silver comet whipped across the sky. The model witch turned to him and waved shouting something that sounded like,_ "Welcome to sunny Scunthorpe, you'll never leave!"_ He looked at Maeve with a surprised expression on his face at the fact she could own something so dreadful.

"Oh, that was Eric Bickerdyke, one of the Hufflepuff first years," she said apologetically. Harry seemed to have a vague recollection of a slightly chubby boy with flat, sandy hair and a permanent stupid grin on his face. "He went there for his Christmas holidays and brought me that back. I didn't have the heart to get rid of it and to be honest it's grown on me…she can be quite cheering when you're feeling a bit grim."

"Right." Harry looked at her as if she had gone off her head. "Well, I did something last year that, looking back, I'm not particularly proud of."

"Okay," Maeve said, nodding for him to continue.

"I was having Occlumency lessons with Snape and…"

"Is this about the Pensieve?" she asked.

"How did you know?" he asked, feeling a little uncomfortable by just how much she did know about him.

"Remus," she said. "He told me about what had happened with your previous lessons when I agreed to take you for Occlumency, which incidentally we need to schedule in for this week before I forget."

"Did he tell you what I saw?" Harry asked, reaching once again for the Scunthorpe witch to see if her cheering effects really did work.

"No, but if it was Severus' Pensieve memory and he didn't want you to see what was in it then I can have a pretty good guess. You saw your father bullying him, didn't you?"

Harry nodded and put the witch back; she didn't work her magic for him. He knew Maeve would say much the same as Remus had done when he had asked him about his father but he had to know anyway. "Was he really so awful?"

"He had his moments. We all had our moments," she said cautiously. "He was a very good-looking man, Harry. He was also fairly clever and good at Quidditch. He had no shortage of admirers and he played to the gallery in that respect. He wasn't a bad man but he was hard on Severus and I don't think Severus entirely deserved that. They didn't like him because of what they perceived him to be. Sirius was probably worse than your dad and really hated Severus because of his family and his knowledge of darkness. But you see, Harry, Sirius was just as guilty of the prejudices he accused his family of. He didn't despise Severus for who he was, he despised him for what he was." She stopped speaking and let her gaze fall to the tawdry trinket that had been given to her so happily by the young student. "It's not what we are or where we come from, it's what we do…a distinction that Sirius and your dad where too young to make at that time. They made Severus suffer for it and on top of what he had to cope with at home it made Severus a little bitter."

"At home?" Harry asked.

"Severus' home life was not good, Harry. He could probably give you a run for your money in that department. I'm not going to say any more about that, but what your dad and Sirius did was not helpful."

"But Snape wasn't particularly nice either. He called my mum a Mudblood when she tried to help him," Harry said.

"An instinctive reaction. Wounded pride makes us say hurtful things that we don't mean. I'd be willing to bet you and your friends have indulged in the same thing once or twice."

"Yeah, but we'd never call anyone a Mudblood." Harry was indignant that she would even consider this.

"Harry, six years ago you didn't even know what a Mudblood was. You would have had no idea of its significance. Severus probably heard the term so much that it ceased to have any meaning for him. For him it was probably no worse than calling someone an idiot. Things are different now, he knows better."

"You think so?"

"Yes, Harry, I think so."

"You have a lot of faith in people, don't you?"

"Someone has to." She picked up her little witch and gave her a shake. "I have faith in you."

He didn't know what to say. She was doing the unthinkable and making him view Severus Snape with less loathing than he had that morning and he wasn't sure if he liked it. He pushed his chair back from the table and walked over to the box, nudging it gently with his foot.

"I'm afraid of what's going to happen," he said. "I'm afraid I'm going to let everyone down. I know what the prophecy is, I know what I have to do and I have managed to get through the whole of this year pretending it's not going to happen. It is going to happen, isn't it?"

"Harry, nothing in life is certain. Nothing that's good and nothing that's bad is certain. We don't know how this will turn out."

"What if I die?"

"We'll all die eventually."

"That's a stupid thing to say," Harry fired back. "I don't want to die now. I want my life."

"But we will all die. And sometimes we don't need to physically die to feel dead. Don't allow yourself to think about your death. It's there waiting for you and only it knows when it will appear. To spend your life, however long or short it may be, looking for it is just a clever way to torment yourself. Enjoy your friends, enjoy your loved ones…just don't waste your energy on hate and regret."

Harry wasn't sure she fully understood his sense of impending doom but he conceded that to live his life waiting for Voldemort to throw one last fell swoop was indeed a waste. He looked again at the box.

"You should let Neville see this. He'll understand and whatever it is you're looking for, he might be able to help. I'm going to get some lunch and then throw myself into Transfiguration. I might even try and escape and visit Hogsmeade." He grinned at her and she gave a playful frown.

"Living your life to the full does not mean breaking every rule in sight and if I catch you out of bounds I will personally flay you, understood?"

"I think so," he said, leaving the box and picking up his bag from the floor. "Thanks, Maeve," he said and he realised he meant it. He felt considerably better now than he had after Severus had spoken to him that morning. "Nice nightie, by the way," he laughed, as he opened the door.

"Don't push it!" she yelled after him. "Oh and, Harry?"

"Yes," he poked his head back round the door.

She held out the little witch to him. "Take her. Trust me, she'll cheer you up when you need it most."

Harry took the little piece of domed glass and felt its smooth surface beneath his fingers. He grinned as he dropped her into his bag. "I don't even know where Scunthorpe is!" he said as he closed the door behind him.

She examined the box again. Could she risk upsetting Neville by showing it to him? Neville wouldn't be able to help, surely? He had been a baby when all this had happened so how could he have any idea what his mother had discovered? She carried the box through to he sitting room and placed it by the fireplace as the portrait of her mother watched her serenely. She lifted some of the notebooks back out and checked her watch. She had half an hour before the fourth years demanded her attention and she intended to make the most of it. Her grumbling stomach would have to wait.

Neville wouldn't leave her alone as she grappled with the information contained within the notebooks. Why was he so important? Why was his mother giving him these bloody wrappers? What did she want him to know? It had to be connected to Draco and the things he had hinted at with his father. What had he said about allowing others to suffer? So many questions, she thought as she looked up at her mother, and so few answers.

"Why would you give me gum wrappers if you were in Alice's place?" she asked the portrait. "What would you want to give me if you were in Alice's situation?" She watched her mother smile that bland smile and was about to turn away when Grainne's mouth parted.

"Protection." The soft lilt carried through the room as Maeve looked at her mother in amazement. All that portrait had ever done was smile and look pretty. "I'd want to give you protection, child."

Maeve looked at her mother and understood exactly what Alice was doing. The answer to the riddle of the Somnus Funestus was in that gum. She tried to grasp at the implications. If you chewed that gum you would be protected against the vapour. That was what Draco had been getting at and that was why Alice was trying to give her child clues – she wanted to protect him. In Alice's befuddled brain she couldn't work out that she should have just given Neville the un-chewed gum… or perhaps she was too afraid for herself. Maeve clutched Alice's books to her chest as she realised the solution had been there all along and no one had seen it.

Another, more unsettling thought then developed in her mind. Why was Roderick chewing it so avidly? She had a horrible feeling it wasn't just a coincidence. Could Filch have been right about his late night meetings? If he was then that would mean Roderick had lied to her.

Within seconds she had stuck her head in the fire and was looking out into Severus' dank room. She scanned the room that had been her haven earlier and couldn't see him but she could hear movement in the bedroom.

"Severus!" she called from the feisty flames. His fire crackled and flared, bringing him rushing back into the room.

"What's the matter?" he asked urgently. Maeve had never stuck her head into his fireplace before and he was alarmed.

"Come up to my rooms. I think I have discovered something but I need to speak to you first." Her face glowed in the firelight and he watched as her cheeks grew bright.

"I can't just drop everything because you have found yourself," he said tartly. "Is it something to do with this morning? I'm sorry I slammed the door."

"No, it's nothing to do…did you just apologise then?"

"Might have done." He gave the tube of belladonna extract he was holding an unexpected squeeze and the purple paste shot out onto the floor.

"Amazing," she said, shaking her head and sending hot sparks onto his rug. "No, seriously. I think I have found out what will cure the Sleepers, but there are complications."

"Such as?"

"Just come up to my rooms, I've got a nasty feeling that the person that's supposed to be watching me could be part of the problem."

The tube of belladonna extract spun on the floor as it fell from Severus' hands and the fire was extinguished by the harsh gust of wind caused by the slamming of the outer door.


	28. Why Didn't They Ask Snape

He looked more annoyed than worried when he barged unceremoniously into Maeve's office. She was sitting at her desk with a stack of Ministry notebooks surrounding her and greeted him with a slight smile on her face.

"Glad you could make it," she said, attempting mild humour. Severus, however, was not in a humorous frame of mind.

"Bloody ridiculous," he said, apropos of nothing. She watched as he began to walk around her rooms muttering under his breath and flicking his wand around. For a moment she thought he had gone completely barmy but his serious expression led her to believe he may well have been checking the room for any eavesdroppers. Once he had been through the rooms thoroughly and was satisfied that there was no one lurking in the corners or using any listening devices he returned to the outer office.

"I warned Dumbledore," he said, satisfaction oozing from every pore. "It's Rampton, isn't it?"

Maeve looked astounded. Whatever she had been expecting Severus to say, it hadn't been that. She floundered for a few moments as he watched her, with a black look on his face. When she didn't speak he carried on with his own thoughts.

"He's always giving people second chances without any thought for the safety of people who might inadvertently get in the way of his pet projects. He knows Rampton's family history and yet he still brought him into the school. Would you bring in someone of such debatable pedigree?" He looked at her with malicious fervour, expecting her to agree with him.

"He brought you in," she said quietly, getting up from her desk and closing the open window. The draft and Severus' face were competing to see who could create the coldest sensation and Severus was winning. She was unprepared for this rant against Roderick but even she could see the irony of what Severus was saying. "And you were a confirmed Death Eater, Severus."

"I see no parallel," Severus replied in a frosty voice. "The circumstances were completely different."

"To you, perhaps," she said. "And perhaps Roderick sees his position in the same way you saw yours."

He stood there with his arms firmly folded across his chest and looked irritated by the challenge. Maeve waited for his response and when she saw she had won the argument she waved a hand at the seat opposite hers and told him to sit down. She sat on her side of the desk, resting her feet carelessly on her chair.

"If I told you that I thought the cure for Somnus Funestus could be found in Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, what would you say?" she asked, watching as his lips twitched slightly.

"I'd say you had either been drinking or were a little delirious. However, you obviously have some reason for thinking that, so out with it." He tried to look serious but at the mention of Drooble's gum he couldn't help but feel she had lurched from one ridiculous thought to another.

"Alice Longbottom was an Auror," she began.

"Yes, I know who Alice Longbottom was. Get to the point."

"Alice Longbottom was an Auror," she began again, this time going just a little more slowly, "who, at the time of Voldemort's first demise, was working on the possibility that Carduus Amara was being produced. I think Alice knew a lot more than is contained in these notebooks because to this day, despite the fact she is mentally incapable of much, she still tries to give Neville Drooble's gum. My mother hinted that it might be protection."

"Your mother's dead," Severus said laconically, picking at invisible fluff on his well-tailored robes.

"How observant," she said sarcastically. "I also have her portrait… oh!"

"I'm on the edge of my seat," he said as he waited for another of her brainwaves to be voiced. He was having difficulty taking this idea seriously and this was reflected in his relaxed attitude.

"I wonder if that's what Dumbledore thought I should have when he sent Hagrid to Abbeylara… do you think it might be?"

"Maeve, where your maladjusted family is concerned, I try not to think."

"Cauldron, kettle, black," she retorted. "But seriously, if you could stop being annoying for a minute. Do you think that's what it could have been?"

"Possibly," he conceded. "It could have been anything in all of this." His slender hand wafted around the room. "I hardly think even Dumbledore would have had the foresight to think your mother could unlock the secret to our current problems though."

"No, I suppose not." She looked disappointed but immediately returned to her theorising. "So, we have Alice connected to both Carduus Amara and the gum. I have also been finding the stuff lying around in various places, places that Roderick could have been."

Severus gave a snort that indicated he had been right about Roderick all along. Maeve ignored his I-told-you-so expression and continued.

"And today I had an interesting conversation with Draco Malfoy who intimated that he, or at least his father, knew something advantageous about the gum. Do you have any ideas about that? He is, after all, in your house."

Severus shook his head calmly. Despite his outward support of Draco Malfoy, he had grown to dislike the child. Quite apart from the fact he was Lucius' son and the daughter of Narcissa, he loathed the fact that Malfoy Junior was always dragging at his father's coat tails and didn't seem to have the intelligence to be anything other than Lucius Malfoy's son. Had he showed some wit or independent thought then Severus may have favoured him out of respect rather than the fact he was in Slytherin and the son of a high-profile member of the board of governors. Or at least he had been; now he was the son of a celebrated Death Eater who wouldn't have been allowed within a mile of the school. Perhaps he also disliked the notion that Draco reminded him rather too much of himself at that age, reminded him of the choices he had taken.

"I'm not sure that Draco would know about something like that, even if Lucius was involved…and there is nothing to suggest he is," Severus said mildly.

"I know, but given Lucius' history don't you think he could be involved somehow?"

"With Lucius anything is possible." Severus felt aggression rise in him as he remembered his schooldays and the way he had been forced to do Lucius' bidding. It had been humiliating to say the least, almost as humiliating as the way Black and Potter had taunted him. He had successfully hidden the extent of his connections to Lucius from Maeve. She had always known his father was power-hungry and wished to cloak himself in the glory that came with a high profile but she had never realised the lengths his father had forced him to go to to keep Lucius and his father Marcus happy. In some ways Sirius had been right when he had called him Lucius' lap dog – not that Severus would have admitted that to anyone.

"Assume I'm right," Maeve's lilt brought him back from the brink of bad memories. "Do you think there is something in the gum that could be protecting people against either the vapour or the plant?"

"Again, it's a possibility. Are you suggesting we obtain this product and test it? We still have Fudge and that witch taking up space in the hospital wing." Finally Severus' interest was aroused by the fact that he could do something more appealing than merely speculate. He tapped his tapering fingers together in anticipation as she leant across the desk, her face lit with pleasure because he hadn't dismissed the idea.

"Should we?" Her childlike eagerness made him smile, despite himself, and he gave in to it.

"I'll talk to Dumbledore. I'll also talk to Rampton." He looked at her with that protective glance she had seen him develop over the past few days and it comforted her to know he was prepared to stand between her and anything problematic. Not that she wanted him to, but the knowledge that he would was further proof of the bond that had re-emerged between them.

"I spoke to Harry today," she said. "He mentioned the incident last year with the Pensieve."

There were some things that Severus found extremely difficult to consider and that incident with Potter and his memory was one of them. His dark brows sank over pale eyelids as he prepared to withdraw into his shell once more.

"He is trying to understand, Severus. He is not his father, despite what you think," Maeve said, with gentleness in her voice. "He is a boy, a boy with the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders. He is not, nor ever will be, the carefree, thoughtless James Potter that we knew."

"Potter was more than thoughtless, he was vindictive," Severus said bitterly.

"You were different to them and they just didn't understand you. Lily liked you though. She stuck up for you on more than one occasion."

"Lily pitied me; it was in her eyes."

"That's not true," Maeve said, her intelligent face hurt by the harm James and Sirius had caused back then. "She didn't want to see you upset in the same way that I didn't."

"There was a difference between you and Lily though," he said. "You actually liked me, while Lily just felt I was somebody she could exercise her pent-up compassion on. Admit that your friend had failings," he urged.

"We've all got failings, Severus. I think the two of us have more than most." She smiled and stood up, crossing to his side of the desk and placing warm hands on his stiffened shoulders. "We need to accept them and forget the mistakes we made." She kneaded his shoulders a little and he relaxed beneath her, allowing the heat from her hands to penetrate his cold skin. "So, do we get excited about Drooble's or not?"

"I think we may permit ourselves to think about the prospect," he replied as her fingers worked at him. "But I need to speak with Roderick first. I need to see how great his potential is for causing you harm."

"He has had ample opportunity to hurt me," she pointed out. "He could easily have killed me at Abbeylara…or had me killed."

"Yes, but that was before you had connected him to plans of the Dark Lord. You know his father worked for him in some capacity. I never knew exactly what it was but I would put my money on the son following in the father's footsteps."

Severus had spent quite some time thinking back to past meetings with the other Death Eaters in an attempt to discover what it was he connected Rampton with. It had not been comfortable, although some of the memories were not altogether unpleasant. He remembered the older Rampton well. There had been something present in him that was not there with the others that surrounded Voldemort. Rampton had, on occasion, displayed compassion. Severus had known why the old man killed himself; it was obvious to anyone who could connect him to the old days. He did not want to endure serving the Dark Lord again and Severus had to admit, if faced with the same prospect, he might well consider taking the same course of action himself.

"You didn't follow in your father's footsteps," she pointed out as her probing fingers found a way past his tight collar. She playfully undid the first button of his tight robes and loosened the noose around his neck. He grabbed her hands to prevent her from doing any more damage and she twisted free, dragging her fingers along his neck as she broke the contact.

"I need to speak to Rampton," he insisted, ignoring the score of her nails on his skin and steering her away from any discussion about his father.

She relented and allowed him to stand. The dust hung in the air of her room as the sunlight filled the stony space. Maeve knew that she had lessons to teach that afternoon but as the clock turned inexorably towards one o'clock she was less inclined to leave her room. As Severus turned to face her she knew, with a wistful lurch of recollection, that the only place she wanted to be was with him. It was as if she had been transported back to their time at school when she had been free to enjoy his company without any other intruders stealing away their time together.

"I have a class," she said, following her own train of thought.

"Lucky you," he said. "I have the enviable prospect of a free afternoon. It will afford me the opportunity of dealing with our titled friend."

"I like him," Maeve said honestly. "You obviously have your suspicions but despite his past I still like him. I can't believe he could be so wholly bad."

"You are entitled to your opinion but you'll have to forgive me if, in this instance, I don't agree with it."

"I'll allow you the latitude," she said, following him to the door. "But I bet I'm right."

"I'm not a betting man," he replied, playing her game for a moment. He had forgotten how stimulating her conversation could be, despite its constant, confrontational nature. "If I was a betting man, I would place a large amount of money on Mr Rampton being in this right up to his rather aristocratic neck."

"You don't like people like him, do you?" she said, walking into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It must have felt natural to Severus because he allowed his arms to rest on her waist and let her face sit just a few inches from his own.

"And what is he?" he asked.

"Old money, wizarding aristocracy, a house that he didn't have to buy and with family connections going back centuries." As she spoke her hair brushed against his shoulders, red and black mingling.

"I don't like everything that those things usually stand for. My father drove my mother and myself to the very limits of reason trying to gain those things, but he could not see that he would never be anything other than an interloper in their society. The only thing he had in his favour was his pure bloodline. My father–" the word held such contempt that it made Maeve wince "– was happy to be their puppet rather than be his own man."

"But you don't resent my background?"

"Of course I do," he said, surprising her with the vehemence of his response. "But I think you are like me. We didn't fit within the framework set out for us and we managed to free ourselves. Perhaps, one unfortunate day, Abbeylara will come back to you and you can return like some prodigal child emerging from the wilderness. Then you will have to make a decision as to whether you take up the mantle of your own breeding."

She cocked her head to one side and lapsed into silence as she tried to assess his words. The breeding he referred to wasn't really her breeding; she was of different lineage than the one that now ruled Abbeylara.

"I don't want Abbeylara," she said with a shake of her head. "I've already seen the home I want and it doesn't involve a building with more than five rooms. If you are very lucky I might take you there."

As his black, bottomless eyes watched her steadily she was reminded of her little fantasy of the cottage and child. Could it be grasped or was it merely a trick her mind played on her? Was that her idea of contentment? The feel of his hands at the base of her spine felt so consuming that she almost voiced her longing for a family life but the sudden lunge of his lips prevented her saying anything. He pulled back and released her as she raised a hand to touch her sullied mouth.

"You are making a habit of that, Professor," she said. "You had better not let Harry catch you at it." She was out of the door before he had the chance to respond and she didn't hear his aggravated sigh as she sped off to her class with a spring in her step that had everything to do with Severus and little to do with Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

Severus quickly threw off the pleasant feeling that he had discovered he felt whenever he kissed her and stepped silently into the corridor. A chill crept along its reaches as spring failed to arrive for yet another day. Not, he thought, that the corridors ever felt much warmer, even in the height of summer. Flickering torches lit the walls, sending shadows dancing across the stonework. Severus folded his arms tightly across his chest as he waited for his prey to show itself. He had absolutely no doubt that Rampton was there, waiting for him to go before streaking off after Maeve. Rampton was no fool and would want to avoid a confrontation at all costs.

Half an hour, and a particularly good Arithmancy puzzle, later and Rampton still remained hidden behind the statue of Calliope Cooper, an ex-Gryffindor head of house. Severus rolled his eyes before speaking into the silence.

"I have all day, Rampton. You, however, are rapidly running out of time."

Only the passing wind answered him and he brushed a strand of black hair away from his face. He had no intention of moving and if this carried on much longer he would be forced to haul the cowering man out of his hiding place. He was just about to withdraw his wand when a rustle from behind the statue caused him to pause.

"What do you want, Snape?" He heard the voice before he caught sight of the red robes as Roderick extricated himself from his hiding place. He straightened up and gave Severus a poisonous look. He had no wish to do this but even Roderick could see the stubbornness in the nature of the older man.

"Well, Rampton," Severus' voice trickled loathing with every syllable. "What are you up to?"

"I have no idea what you mean, Snape," Roderick replied. "But I really do have a job to do and you detaining me prevents me from doing it."

"Does it?" Severus' face was emotionless as he moved closer to the bold young man. "And what happened last night? Did someone else detain you, someone more important- or more powerful- than I?"

"Sick aunt," Roderick said too quickly. "I told Dumbledore."

"But of course," Severus circled him disconcertingly, "Dumbledore believes you. You are his attempt to make peace with the world. You are the same as the werewolf Lupin, dangerous."

"I am completely loyal to Dumbledore! How dare you question my fidelity?" Roderick's usual bluster was completely lost on Severus' cold figure.

"I question it, Rampton, in the same way I question myself. I find that I am not lacking but I wonder… are you? Why did you not hand over Maeve when you had the chance? Imagine the leverage that would have bought you from the Dark Lord."

Roderick gave a high-pitched laugh. "You still call him the Dark Lord and yet you question my integrity! Perhaps it is you who is preparing Maeve to be the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter."

He yelped with pain as Severus grabbed him by the throat and thrust him harshly into the wall. Cold breath filled Roderick with momentary fear as Severus fired visual curses into him. He was shaken by the amount of hatred and love that manifested itself in those black eyes. Both men remained locked in this position for a few moments before Severus finally trusted himself to speak.

"I do not have any faith you, Rampton. I want to know exactly what connection your father had to the Dark Lord. You will tell me now or you will face the consequences."

"What consequences!" Roderick almost laughed but the razor-like quality of Severus' fingers against his throat subdued the mirth.

"I am not above fabricating something suitable if it will achieve my aims. I have a good relationship with Mr Filch. For some reason he brings me information that he would otherwise keep to himself. Partial to a drink in the Hog's Head, aren't we?" The implication was clear from the tone of his voice.

Roderick was beginning to feel he had been backed into a corner, both figuratively and bodily. He knew he should have dealt with Filch immediately, brainless Squib!

"My father allowed our land to be used by Voldemort," Roderick admitted. "That was it. I didn't want the connection to be made. I wanted to protect the family name."

"The family name!" Severus spat scornfully. "You fool. A family name means nothing to anyone of any account."

"You would say that," Roderick replied viciously. He wrenched his neck from Severus' grasp. "You have no family name. How far do you go back… a few generations and you pass yourself off as a Pureblood. But it's a fabrication. Most people know that your father wasn't a Pureblood."

"Purity has nothing to do with blood. It takes experience to realise that."

"Would you have traded your self-inflicted Pureblood status for that of a Mudblood?" he asked and was rewarded with hesitation from Severus. "Of course you wouldn't. Who would? Would you want the students to know your father was a nothing?"

"I would not betray those that I love, whatever their bloodline," he snapped.

"Oh, save me the cheap sentiment," Roderick sneered. "The only thing I have is my name and I intend to keep it that way. What use is love? It's a passing fancy that is gone as quickly as it arrives. Maeve is nice enough in an inconsequential way, but there is little there to keep one amused for long. Perhaps you will realise that soon enough."

"You are a shallow, foolish man." Severus was only just keeping control of his temper as his jet eyes assessed Roderick's scornful face. "Do you really believe that Maeve would be interested in you? There isn't enough in that empty head of yours to keep her occupied beyond the occasional trivial lunch. And don't think I haven't seen you trying to curry her favour. You aren't fit to clean her classroom."

"I think I could go a long way with her, if I put my mind to it. Have you bedded her yet?" He leered at the taller man and his face was swollen with superiority. "No? I could. Shall we lay a wager on it, Snape? The first to bed Maeve O'Malley gets to keep his position in the school."

"You have no position within this school," Severus said, his hand trembled on the shaft of his wand as he tried to do the right thing. What would one little Cruciatus curse matter on someone as loathsome as this?

"I could have any position I wanted. Dumbledore has a lot of faith in me, probably more than he has in you if the only reason he believes you switched sides was because of that little tart." Roderick ignored the tightening around his throat. "I could walk right into the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. How would you like that, Professor Snape? I could walk into the position you covet and the bed of the woman you want to love."

Neville puffed his way up the staircase. It was risky, slipping out between lessons, but as it was Herbology and Professor Sprout considered him something of a star pupil he thought he would get away with it. In his hand he clutched the contents of the owl his grandmother had sent him that morning. The letter itself contained the usual entreaties to do well and apply himself, as if he ever did anything other than apply himself. It wasn't entirely his fault if the subjects to which he applied himself didn't accept him. His gran loved him, of that he was in no doubt, but she also saw him as a replacement for his father, and a disappointing one at that. She kept sending him pictures of his dad that she insisted she had unearthed in the course of cleaning the house. Neville had seen the box she took these pictures from and he knew it had nothing to do with cleaning and more to do with the need to keep his father's memory alive.

The picture she had sent today had been of his mum and dad just before he had been born. It was the usual image, his mum looking up adoringly at his father while wearing strange hairstyles and oddly patterned robes. What made this one unusual, however, was the writing on the back. He had traced the looped letters with a loving finger as he tried to imagine his mum placing her quill against the back of the picture and writing the inscription. He tried, and failed, to imagine her touching the photograph that he held in his hand. Neville never allowed his grief to come to the surface; he bolted it down and hoped that one day something could be done for his mum. But his gran pooh-poohed the idea, insisting that what was done was done and they must accept the way things were.

As Neville reached the top of the stairs he heard angry, low voices arguing and he paused. His normally placid nature warned him to turn away and walk back down the stairs; he could deliver the image at the end of the day. He heard a voice he didn't recognise say something about Professor O'Malley and this arrested his urge to retreat. What did 'bed' mean, he thought as he hesitated between stepping forward and stepping back.

"You would not get either, Rampton."

That was Professor Snape's voice and this almost decided it for Neville. He really didn't want to bump into Severus unless he absolutely had to.

"She'd bend over backwards for me, Snape. Let's face it, she could have pure, unadulterated pleasure or a moment of inadequate fumbling with a man whose idea of foreplay is to put his slippers on."

It now dawned on Neville just what was going on. Whatever he thought of Professor Snape, he knew that Professor O'Malley liked him. It would never be enough to make him understand the man, but it was enough to make him step out into the corridor and defend her.

His eyes widened as he saw Severus withdraw his wand and point it into the other man's face. Neville tried to say something but his voice failed him. Snape was shouting, he was threatening the Cruciatus curse and the other man was mocking him. Now the other man had drawn his wand and was pointing it at Severus, but he was too slow and with a quick _"Expelliarmus!"_ Severus had disarmed his opponent. As the professor's wand sang through the air again and the beginnings of the Cruciatus curse formed on his lips Neville grasped at his own wand. His only thoughts were for his mother and father lying in their hospital beds and he did not think of the consequences as he opened his mouth.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

Severus watched in horror as his wand snatched itself from his grasp and slithered across the floor in the direction of the boy that stood, bathed in light, at the end of the corridor. Rampton gave a horrible laugh and knocked Severus' hand away from his throat.

"Defeated by a schoolboy, Severus! How fitting." He threw himself after his own wand but as he did so the boy at the end of the corridor spoke again.

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Roderick was momentarily suspended in mid-air before he crashed to the ground in a stiffened reel. Neville's bravado evaporated quickly as his Potions master turned his pale face towards him.

"I'm so… sorr…sorry," spluttered Neville, doing his best impression of a tortured soul as he faced his nemesis.

"Come here, boy!" Severus commanded as he swept forward to pick up his wand.

Neville hesitantly approached the professor as the sniggering torchlight illuminated his nightmare. He was never very good at reading faces and the sallow face that now confronted him was totally impassive in its rigidity.

"What are you doing out of lessons?" Severus hissed and Neville quaked a little.

"I… I had something…for P…Professor O…O'Malley, Sir," Neville wavered.

"Give it to me." Severus held out an expectant hand.

"No, Sir," Neville suddenly felt emboldened. Perhaps it was the sight of the prone man on the floor or perhaps it was the fact he had prevented a professor casting an Unforgivable curse… whatever it was Neville had decided he was not going to hand over the photograph.

"Are you disobeying an order, Longbottom?" The name came out in a mocking tone and Neville winced.

"Yes, Sir," he replied. "I have something for Professor O'Malley and if she is not here then I will give it to her later." He stopped and looked once again at the petrified man on the floor. "I don't know what was going on, Sir, but he said some things that were horrible. I understand why you wanted to curse him but… well…it's not right, sir."

"Not right?" Severus gazed down at the boy and felt something that bordered upon admiration. He brushed the feeling away and reminded himself that this was Neville Longbottom. "And you would know what is not right?"

"Yes, Sir. Casting that curse is never right. It has taken my parents…" Neville didn't finish and he waited for Professor Snape to announce his punishment for disarming a teacher, not to mention using the petrifying spell on a complete stranger.

"Very well, Longbottom. Get back to your class." The dismissal was immediate and it surprised Neville.

"But, sir. I've …" His eyes slid towards Roderick.

"No matter, I will take care of that. However…may I suggest that you do give me whatever it is you have for Professor O'Malley? It will be in safe hands."

Neville had to make a decision and decision-making wasn't his strongest point. He watched as Severus waited patiently, and from somewhere he felt his mother's presence. Reaching into his robes he pulled forth the photograph and handed it to the teacher.

"My gran sent it. It's of my mum. There's writing on the back."

Severus quickly flipped over the image and read the writing. His eyebrow rose ever so slightly and he flicked his black eyes at Neville.

"Thank you," he breathed and Neville felt the world shift. Never would he have thought that that man would thank him for anything. "What he said" – he nodded to Roderick – "… about Maeve…"

Severus frowned.

"It wasn't right. She wouldn't have anything to do with him. I don't know why but I think she would rather be with you." Neville gulped rapidly and, pocketing his wand, he turned away and left the Potions master contemplating the boy. As Severus watched him round the corner he couldn't help but turn his attention back to Rampton, who was lying prone on the floor.

He bent down to the prostrate man and, without a trace of concern, looked into his anguished eyes.

"I want you to confirm one thing for me, Rampton. Does Drooble's gum prevent the injury caused by Carduus Amara and the Somnus Funestus vapour?"

With a flick of his wand, Severus freed Roderick's upper body from the binding spell.

There was a vague movement from the man's head, which could have been a nod or it could have been a spasm caused by the very effective spell that Neville had cast.

"Speak!" Severus commanded.

"Yes," Roderick croaked. "Yes it does. Please…. let me be…"

"You will leave Hogwarts, Rampton. I do not want you within the same walls as Maeve or myself. Do not think that because the Dark Lord favours you with the occasional word of praise that you are something special to him. He will kill you in an instant if he felt you were in any way duplicitous…and I believe you are."

"Severus."

His name swirled around the walls and made him look up from Roderick's stricken figure.

"Professor Dumbledore," he said as he drew himself up.

"Let him be now, Severus."

"How long have you…"

"Long enough. It was a kindness you showed Neville, one I thought I would never see."

"He used his initiative, for once." Severus could not help the note of admiration that crept into his voice but he quickly disguised it with a dry cough.

"I almost feel sorry for Mr Rampton," Dumbledore said as he approached them, gliding softly through the torchlight. "You knew all along about Rampton?"

"I knew about his father," Severus replied.

"Perhaps I do not ask you enough questions, Severus," Dumbledore said regretfully. "Perhaps I have been mistaken in trusting you but not trusting you far enough." A look of worry passed across his face. "Perhaps the time was right to give you the post you so desire, but there would have been consequences. Perhaps my own reservations were not enough."

"We would not have had Professor O'Malley had you done that," Severus said evenly. "Without her…" he didn't finish the sentence.

"Indeed," Dumbledore responded. "One cannot underestimate the power of a single human being to change the course of another. You must cement that relationship Severus. Only a fool could lose her now."

Severus looked embarrassed to be discussing this with the headmaster and he turned his attention back to Roderick.

"We know the antidote to the Dark Lord's latest weapon," he said flatly. "I need Maeve to help me extract its secrets."

"I cannot replace her," came the reply. "Remus Lupin left for France this morning and he is the only one who could take her place at such short notice."

"Why did he leave?" Severus asked, unable to disguise the note of interest.

"He needs to find a different path. I have tried to help him by keeping him close when I should have sent him out a long time ago. I know your views on werewolves, Severus, but Remus is a sound man. I may have been wrong in forcing him into a false relationship with Maeve. That may have caused his current problems."

"And what are they?" Severus couldn't help the flash of triumph.

"He couldn't help his changing feelings. Remus is, in many ways, a simple man. He requires love and companionship. You would not understand that, Severus, because you require so much more. Maeve is a constant challenge to you and in that respect you are in step with each other. Remus wanted something that would not have made him happy. Maeve's restless nature would have contrasted with his own and caused them both misery." He watched as the dark man preened under the implied praise and he sighed. "Perhaps I could arrange something. It would not take you long if you worked at it together, would it?"

"Not at all," Severus replied. "I would work my own classes round the task and Maeve could continue alone when I was not available. We need to work rapidly now that we know there is an antidote."

"I understand," Dumbledore said. With one last look at Roderick he dismissed Severus and summoned Madam Pomfrey to deal with the wounded Auror. He would need to deal with the unpleasant fact that Roderick had not been as honest as Dumbledore would have liked him to be. He mused regretfully on his ability to either trust too little or trust too much…and he prayed that he would one day find a happy medium.

"How could this happen?" The hiss slithered through the air and rested in the eager ears of Bellatrix Black and Peter Pettigrew. "You told me that Meany was one of the best, impervious to capture and yet–" he gave a dry laugh "– he is captured."

"I don't know what happened, Master," Bella said in her most wheedling tone. It was the wrong tactic because Voldemort couldn't stand whining, even from his most favoured follower.

"Enough!" he said, whipping round and almost causing Peter to fall back against the luxurious drapery that covered the windows. "You are failing me in every respect. We neglected to capitalise on capturing the werewolf and in turn failed to apprehend the woman. And now we have lost one of our spies within Hogwarts. That leaves us with just one option within the school walls and I do not know how reliable he will prove to be. His loyalty is to a dead man, not to me."

"With respect, Master," Peter said in a quivering voice. "I think he is doing an excellent job. He was well placed to report back on activities within Dumbledore's stronghold."

"Oh, be quiet. What would you know about Hogwarts? It has been years since you were there. That man could be up to any manner of deceptions." Voldemort took up a commanding position by the fire and felt its uncomfortable heat scratch at his skin. "I am tiring of these constant barbs. I want the Vapour ready for a wide scale attack by the end of the week. At least the one person I can rely on is in charge of that aspect of the operation."

Bellatrix visibly bridled at the suggestion that Lucius Malfoy was the one person Voldemort could reply upon. She was tempted to remind him just how Lucius had got along whilst Voldemort was struggling through his disembodied years and she had been entombed in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy had been enjoying the best life had to offer as he drank with his friends in comfortable gentlemen's clubs, collecting more money and more accolades.

As Voldemort's eyes scoured the room she forced any complaints to the back of her mind. Bellatrix had other things on her mind, namely Rodolphus and his sudden, inexplicable behaviour towards her. Normally quite a vibrant character that participated eagerly in her excruciating schemes, he had now become sullen and withdrawn, preferring to spend time alone in their attic rooms than with her. Bellatrix knew that she was spending far more of her time in the exclusive company of the Dark Lord, but then, who wouldn't? She watched with undisguised admiration as he paced the room, his eyes roaming restlessly around as Peter twitched nervously by the window. But Rodolphus could cause trouble if he was suitably provoked. He had always been something of a fool, running with her on her chosen path because he liked the thrill of it without the responsibility. Without her, she knew, he was nothing and yet he still had the power of a husband over a wife.

She continued to follow Voldemort around the room with her eyes and regretted her hasty marriage. What could have been achieved, she pondered aimlessly, if I had waited? What could I have achieved with that man by my side instead of the feckless Rodolphus? Bitter regret taunted her for a few moments as she allowed herself the luxury of feeling sorry for herself. It did not last long. Voldemort stopped his pacing and he filled the room with his belligerence as he turned to Peter and ordered him to scour the forest and find the body of the werewolf. Peter looked suitably horrified at this task and was about to protest but he felt his silver hand throb with warning and scurried out into the night with little more than a lit wand for company.

"Bella!" The word was a harsh embrace that stroked her ego and soothed her fears about Rodolphus. "I think it is time we returned to England. I am tiring of allowing others to do my work for me. I want to bring down this woman and prepare to deal with Potter. You mentioned the coward, Snape, would be an option and now that the werewolf appears to have failed I think we may need to pursue that route. Meany, before his inopportune capture, mentioned they had been sneaking around that fetid lake together at Hogwarts. I think perhaps he has a fondness for the woman, foolish man. I understand now why she evaded my grip the first time and it will not happen again. I shall watch her die myself."

"Forgive me, Master, but I rather thought Niall was looking forward to that particular pleasure."

Voldemort cast a cold eye on her and grinned, the tightness in his face turned it into a frightful leer and Bella melted.

"Would you deny me the pleasure, my dearest?"

Bella forgot Rodolphus, she forgot their cause and she forgot the pleasure caused by pain. She mired herself in the delight that had been caused by the word dearest and simpered under his scrutiny.

"Of course not, Master. Your pleasure is my own."

"Then let us prepare to leave, there will be no need for others to know where we are going. Accompany me now, Bella and your immortality will be secured."

She dipped her head and felt her haggard cheeks grow warm with a feeling she had never known. He brushed past her as he left the room and she felt his odour on her robes. Bella had always been intoxicated by the smell of evil and here it was in its purest form.

Lucius stirred in the cavern he had chosen for his living space. It was high and wide, supported by the very rock of the earth and lit by wax candles that guttered in the occasional waft of stale air. His bed was not up to his usual standard and he found it difficult to sleep. He longed for the airy rooms of Malfoy Mansion and the wide four-poster he occasionally shared with Narcissa. But his discomfort was assuaged by the fact they were almost ready to launch the first large consignment of vapour onto a waiting world. This would assure his place within Voldemort's inner circle and give him more of the power that he so desired. Perhaps, when this was finished and Draco had left that restrictive education that Narcissa had inflicted upon him, father and son could become united under the Dark Lord.

Meanwhile back at Hogwarts, beneath a star-speckled sky, Maeve had a late night meeting with Severus. He sat close to her on the edge of the lake as the Kraken and the Giant Squid twisted in an intricate, liquid dance. He allowed his robes to encompass them both as he showed her the image that Neville had given to him earlier. She flipped it over and read the words.

'Frank and Alice, Rampton Court, 1980. Note the blue flowers!"

"Is this true?" she asked sadly. Severus had not told her about his earlier encounter with Roderick. It would have involved too much detail and he didn't want her to know what Rampton had really thought about her. "Could Alice have known? This raises too many questions, Severus." The image of Alice in her pretty, flower-print dress had made her heart sink. In the background she could just make out the electric-blue sway of the Carduus Amara plant. Clearly this had been taken before they had realised the damage the spores could do.

"Alice could have been on to something," Severus admitted. "But we can do nothing until the morning. It is getting cold and I think we need to go inside."

The daffodils tight heads bobbed in the night breeze and Maeve felt, for the first time, the shiver of the darkness.

"Your cloak is so much warmer than mine," she laughed, as they stood up and she felt the black cloth fall away from her, leaving her exposed.

Without thinking Severus had slipped it from his shoulders and placed it around her own. He stood in the pale chill of the lateness, wearing only his shirt and trousers, but it didn't matter. As they walked back to the darkened school he felt the pull of her. As she prepared to walk away from him towards her own staircase he laid a hand on her arm and prevented the escape.

"I was a little hasty when I left this morning," he confessed, in stilted tones. "I…I enjoyed your company."

"Did you?"

"Yes. Perhaps you could forego your own bed for one more night?"

"I could," she said. Maeve felt a warmth flood her body as she anticipated what was to come. "But there will be conditions."

"And they would be?"

"I'm not sleeping alone."

Severus felt the sweet release of relief, which was short-lived as her pale face was suddenly flung into the light by the end of a lit wand. They sought the source and found the inquisitive face of Professor McGonagall standing a few feet away from them. She was on the point of saying something to the furtive duo, but the look of longing on Maeve's face stopped her.

"Up late, Professors?" McGonagal said in hushed tones. "No doubt you are working on something important."

To Severus' dismay he saw Maeve's face move in what he thought could have been a grin. He did not like being caught on the corridors like a naughty pupil and the superior expression that sat on Professor McGonagall's face suggested that she knew exactly what they had been planning.

"That's right, Professor," he replied tightly, trying to balance Maeve's threatened giggle with a more serious attitude. "There has been a small advance in our work with the Sleepers."

"Yes," Maeve spluttered, finding humour in Severus' discomfort. "There has been a definite advance in the Sleeping arrangements."

Professor McGonagall looked at her archly before quickly extinguishing her wand. She couldn't bear the excruciating embarrassment of Severus' face any longer and she bade them a swift goodnight before hurrying up the stairs towards her room.

Severus gave Maeve a violent look of disapproval before stalking off towards his subterranean rooms with her tripping after him, still holding tight to her laughter. His rooms were exactly as she remembered them from the morning and she walked through to the bedroom as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be doing. With a flick of her wand she brought her night things down from her room in a flurry of excitement and Severus made himself useful by pouring them a glass of Firewhiskey in his sitting room, as he too got ready for bed. When she was safely ensconced in bed he returned and again Maeve had to stifle a laugh.

"What are you wearing?" she asked, looking at his grey flannel night robes with morbid fascination. "Are they supposed to be that shade of grey?"

He looked embarrassed again as he glanced down at the rather old robes. Granted they had been laundered a few too many times but he didn't think they were that bad. He took pride in his outer clothing but had never seen the point of worrying too much about underwear. No one ever got to see it, after all.

"What's wrong with them?" he asked, but as his eyes rested on the now familiar sight of her pristine, silken robes he knew exactly what was wrong with them.

"For the love of Merlin, take them off and burn them." She threw back the covers and as he glimpsed a flash of bare flesh he lost no hurry in doing exactly as she instructed.

Their limbs lay entwined together in peaceful sleep as the fire died down to smouldering embers and the wind softened. Finding comfort in each other they had no idea of the plans that formulated across the water and they slept on, unaware that their potential undoing was making its way ever closer.


End file.
